Sleeping Dragon
by Dark Opal
Summary: Draco left Hogwarts in the fifth year. Now, two year later, he returns... as an eight-year old. His eight-year-old self is helping, innocent... so why does Harry hate him so much? Slash.
1. Harry

My name is Harry Potter. Also known as 'The Boy who Lived'.

But that's not important. This isn't about me.

It's about him.

Draco Malfoy.

I'm sure you all know of him by now. A sarcastic, sneering, spoilt snob, with all the charm of a poised snake ready to attack. Rich as hell though, and looks that would attract _any_ girl. Since the first day in Hogwarts he's been trying his best to ruin my life in the sneakiest, most Slytherin ways possible, the most recent method being getting that horrible woman Rita Skeeter to spread her fabricated lies about me and my friends.

Nice? Definitely not.

Luckily for me however, he left. Right in the middle of the fifth year… he left. To where he went no one knows, although it's a common rumor that he went to Durmstrang.

I wish I could say our farewell was a nice or at least civil one, like the ones people read in books. Enemies approach each other; shake hands, say sorry, then part.

Like I said: I WISH.

He left with a nice shiner on his left eye and a dislocated left arm. So much for pleasant farewells.

But like I said earlier, this Draco Malfoy was _not_ a nice kid. Anything but.

So imagine my reaction, two years later, when I found he was coming back…

Harry slammed his hands on the table, pushing his chair back.

"_Malfoy_'s coming back?" he yelled.

"Mr. Potter, please sit down" McGonagall said, obviously irritated. 

"Damn it! Why's he coming back?" Harry demanded, ignoring the teacher.

"Mr. Potter!"

"Um… Professor…" Hermione spoke up timidly, trying to calm McGonagall down. "Why are you telling _us_? Why not make a… a school announcement?"

The class murmured their assent.

Hermione's tactic worked. McGonagall calmed down, and Ron had time to reach over and yank his friend down.

"This is rather important, Ms. Granger… it was a sudden arrival, you see" the teacher said.

"Why tell _us_, though? And surely it can't be _that _important?" Hermione asked. More murmuring from the class.

"Yeah, it being _Malfoy_ and all" Ron muttered.

"Well, because…" McGonagall paused. "It's not really something I can explain right now… I'll just get him first, then explain"

She walked out of the room.

"What's _he _doing, coming back here?" Harry said.

"Durmstrang probably kicked him out," Hermione said.

"Yeah" Ron chuckled. "His 'holier-than-thou' attitude finally pissed them off"

"Why does he have to come back _here_?" Harry asked somewhat fiercely. "Doesn't he have a more 'high-bred' place to go to?"

"Probably" Ron replied. "But come on, this is _Malfoy_ here. Who would take _him_?"

"Quiet everyone!" McGonagall said, returning through the doors. There was instant silence as everyone craned their heads and swiveled their chairs round to try see the blonde.

"You can go now, Draco" McGonagall said in a softer voice.

"I don't see him," whispered Ron.

"Neither do I" whispered Hermione. Now the room was deadly quiet.

"What?" A look of mingled irritation and amusement flickered onto the elderly teacher's face. "Alright then"

She walked straight to Harry's desk.

"He's been through a lot, so put up with him, alright?" she said in a low voice to Harry before walking to the front of the room with a sweep of her robes. Harry looked to the space next to him. Nothing.

There was a sudden warmth on his arm and he looked down in alarm.

"I found you," the boy said in a soft voice, nestling his face into Harry's soft sweater. "I've finally, finally found you"

Harry didn't care about what other people would think. He reacted on impulse.

"WHO THE HELL ARE _YOU_?" he hollered, yanking his arm away.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall said, quite exasperated now. "Ten points from Gryffindor!"

The boy looked at him with his large, sky blue eyes, currently filled with sadness and brimming with tears. For an instant Harry thought he had gone too far; that the kid was going to cry. To his great relief, the boy turned to the table, biting his lip and hugging himself tightly.

"Professor McGonagall, this isn't Malfoy" Harry said, calming down a bit. He thought he heard a small whimper from the boy but dismissed it. The professor paused.

"Talk to me after class, Mr. Potter" she said, and that was that.

"Me and Dumbledore have checked, Mr. Potter. I assure you, that _is_ Mr. Malfoy" McGonagall said. Harry looked at the little boy, sitting in a dark corner, huddled up with his knees pulled up to his chest.

"But… he can't be, look, this kid, he can't be over _six_" Harry said. He looked at how small the boy's body seemed to be inside his large, baggy clothing. "And look! He's… he's wearing a _t-shirt_! He's wearing a _baseball cap_! Malfoy wouldn't wear something like that!"

The boy looked at him and Harry once again got view of those large, blue eyes… so piercing. It just wasn't right for a normal boy.

McGonagall was watching Harry intently. "Aren't those his eyes, Mr. Potter?"

Harry felt a pang of guilt as he felt himself drowning in those eyes, so filled with sadness and hope.

"He came here by Floo powder. Just appeared in Dumbledore's office, in this state. Was quite hysterical; he wouldn't stop screaming. Poppy had to give him a mild sedative to get him to calm down, and even after that he said he only would talk to one person," she said quietly, and at her last words looked directly at Harry.

"So what did McGonagall say?" Ron asked.

"I have to look after him," Harry said glumly. "Until they figure out what's happening"

Ron glanced at the boy sitting silently on the edge of the bed. "Are you sure that's Malfoy?"

"That's what I asked her, but she says she's positive it's him"

Hermione moved in front of the little boy. "What's your name?" she asked softly. The boy tipped the front of the baseball cap down so it covered his eyes.

"She asked you a _question_," Harry said. The boy trembled.

"Draco Malfoy"

Harry sighed. "Guys, could you leave for a moment please?"

Ron and Hermione looked surprised. 

"Uh… okay Harry… whatever you say…" Ron said and they left. Harry took a deep breath.

"Okay, one more time… what's your name?" Harry asked.

"D… Draco Malfoy" the boy replied, his voice shaking.

"Wrong!" Harry rolled off the bed onto his feet and walked in front of the boy.

"No, you know what? No you're not. I don't care if McGonagall says you're him, but you're not" he said. "Look at me when I talk to you!"

The boy flinched and looked up, eyes filled with unshed tears. Harry felt that twinge of guilt again but did nothing about it.

"So, tell me again, and no lies this time… WHO ARE YOU?"

"D… Draco Malfoy"

Harry took another deep breath and knelt down to stare the boy in the face. The kid stared at him, as if transfixed by his emerald eyes. It was unnerving, to tell the truth.

"Okay, look. Game over, alright? It's not funny. Now, tell me who you are, and tell me the truth. What. Is. Your. Name" he said in the most 'tell-me-the-truth-or-die' voice he could muster.

The boy looked down and hesitated, then, after a long silence, looked up and stared Harry somewhat defiantly in the face and said "Draco Malfoy"

Harry slammed his fist on the bed in frustration, making the boy jump. The raven-haired teen ran a hand through his unruly black locks and sighed.

"Okay, you know what? I'm going to take a shower, and when I come back, you tell me your real name, alright?" he said, walking to the bathroom.

"My name is Draco Malfoy" the boy insisted.

"No its not!" Harry whirled around and shouted. "He's gone, _gone_, and I don't ever want to see him again. You are _not_ him!"

With that he stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door. He stripped and stepped into the shower, turning it as hot as his skin could handle. Within a few moments the room was steaming and foggy. Harry took a deep breath and felt his muscles relax as the water trickled down his forehead to his body and feet, his mess of hair sticking to his face and neck. He heard the door open and there was a sudden chill.

"I need to shower too" the boy said plaintively.

"AHHH!" Harry yelled. He fumbled for a towel then wrapped it around his waist hurriedly, the water still running and wetting it. He switched off the shower and felt for his glasses and put them on, then realized he couldn't see out of them anyway, they were so fogged up.

The boy watched in amusement as Harry finally put on his glasses, after wiping them on his towel.

"Don't walk in like that on me!" Harry said, blushing slightly despite himself.

"I'm a boy too" the child giggled. "And how are you going to dry yourself with that towel?"

Harry realized how ridiculous he looked, standing, dripping in the shower with nothing on but his glasses and a soggy towel. He was about to reply bitingly to the boy then stopped and stared.

"Professor Dumbledore… I'm sure you can tell this _isn't_ Malfoy"

"Oh?" the elderly headmaster raised an eyebrow.

"Look at him!" Harry said.

"What about him?"

Harry wondered sometimes if Dumbledore was losing his mind or if he was being thick on purpose. "His _hair_, Professor!"

"Yes, what about it?"

"It's…" Harry searched for a word. "Brown!" he said, looking at him. The boy's hair was a mess of mouse-brown spikes, running in curly waves down the sides in front of his ears.

"And?"

"Malfoy's hair isn't brown!" Harry said. Dumbledore smiled at him.

"Harry… if you were a redhead, would that change the fact that you were still Harry?"

"No, but…"

"I have checked. This is indeed Mr. Malfoy"

"But-"

"Cockroach cluster, Harry?" Dumbledore opened his drawer and offered the packet to the teenager.

"Uh, no. Thanks"

"Are you sure? Well alright then, you don't know what you're missing…" the headmaster popped one of the yellow sweets into his mouth and sighed in happiness. "Delicious. Now, what were we talking about again?"

"This… this _kid_"

"Oh, yes. What about him?"

Harry wanted to scream but calmed himself down. "Sir, he's not Malfoy. I'm positive"

"Would you like a cockroach cluster?" Dumbledore asked the boy. The boy suddenly stood up and slammed his small hands, palms down, flat onto the headmaster's table.

"I am Draco Malfoy" he said. Dumbledore smiled and the boy glared at him momentarily before taking a cockroach cluster and plonking himself back down on the floor.

"I think you should be getting back to class now, Harry. Severus will no doubt be worried" Dumbledore said.

"But-"

"And take young Mr. Malfoy here with you. Tell Severus you have my permission. Hurry now!"

"Harry?" Draco asked.

"What?" Harry snapped.

"What's 'fugging' mean?"

"What's… _what_?"

"Fugging" Draco repeated.

"Where did you hear that?"

Draco giggled. "From you"

"What? When?"

"Fugging senile mad old coot" Draco quoted. He grinned. "You said it when we left the room"

"Don't listen to what I say next time" Harry said, stirring the potion. There was a pause, then Draco said "You need more caterpillar"

"What?"

"You need more caterpillar" Draco repeated.

"How would you know?"

"I just know!"

"Right" Harry kept on stirring. He saw Draco go somewhere out of his peripheral vision, but ignored it as he saw Snape approach.

Suddenly out of nowhere three caterpillars flew into the cauldron.

"Wha-"

Snape appeared over his shoulder and looked at his potion. He scowled. 

"You've finally made a good potion. Bravo on you" he said scathingly and left. Harry couldn't believe it. No rebuke?

He felt a tug on his trousers.

"I told you it was the caterpillars" Draco whispered.


	2. Hermione

Thank y'all for the reviews! In response to some of them… yes, it's Draco/Harry. No it's not eight-year-old Draco/Harry. And… how did you know he was eight… I only wrote six…

I'm amazed.

Anyway. Yep, he is eight. Not six. As revealed in this chapter. As for why his hair's brown… perfect reason for that. Kinda. Why Harry's being so mean to him… another reason that I'll bring up later on. I tried really hard not to make this story like others where either Harry or Draco turn small. Also… I've got more chapters on my LJ, just taking my time on FF.Net ^^ So you guys don't have to suffer. As normally I'm a lazy git anyway, I decided to post one chapter a week on FF.Net so I have more time to write other chapters. I'm actually about two chapters ahead. So.

Disclaimer (I forgot this in the last chapter): Harry Potter and other characters belong to J.K.Rowling.

Hermione Granger. AKA Perfect Prefect, Golden Girl, Bossy Bookworm and various others.

Yep, that's me.

I'm also known as 'Mudblood'. _Not_ a nice nickname. Officially issued to me in the second year by a not very nice boy.

Draco Malfoy.

He's so… ugh. Words can't even begin to describe him. Spoilt, snobbish… he's so _full_ of it. 'Arrogant' doesn't do him justice. Pretentious, haughty prick.

He's been trying to make our lives a living hell since the first year. Note the word: trying. Did a damn good job of it in the first few years, but eventually we've gotten to ignoring him, and eventually he started being less of a nuisance. Hardly did anything to us in the fifth year, in fact.

Then suddenly he left. Can't say we were sorry to see him go. Ron even proposed holding a celebration party.

So much for a peaceful farewell though. Harry… I don't think I'd ever seen him angrier than he had been on that day. I suspect Malfoy did something to him to get him so upset… I was just so thankful he was gone. I never wanted to see his haughty face again.

So when Professor McGonagall announced his return all those feelings flooded back. I wanted to scream. He was coming back? No! How could the professors have let that happen? Why couldn't he just have… have _stayed_ where he had been?

I seem harsh. Believe me, I'm not. Not really. You have no idea how much trouble that Malfoy has caused us… you have no idea how much I hate him…

"But he's so cute!" Hermione said, watching the boy bounce happily, squealing in laughter on Harry's bed. "How can he _possibly_ be Malfoy?"

"Also the fact that he's not blonde" Ron said, looking at the boy's mouse-brown hair, messy and spiky. Harry walked into the room.

"McGonagall says she's going to try find some clothes for- hey!" he shouted. With the speed of a well-trained Seeker he shot his hand up, grabbed Draco roughly by the front of his overlarge t-shirt and hurled him onto the floor.

"_Don't_ bounce on the bed, understand?" Harry yelled heatedly.

"Harry!" Hermione went to the small boy immediately.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly. The boy turned his head and Hermione caught a glance of tear-filled eyes.

"Did you have to be so rough?" she asked Harry angrily. Harry didn't reply.

"Here" he said, tossing Draco a sweater. "Put it on. You'll get cold"

The boy took the sweater and silently slipped it over his head.

"It's too big" he said as it slipped down to hang around his small shoulders.

"Do I look like I care?"

"Harry!" Hermione stood up. "Alright, that's it, I don't care if this _is_ Malfoy, but you can't go treating little children like that."

She turned to the boy and extended a hand. "Come on kid, let's go"

The six-year-old looked at her hand. "My name is Draco Malfoy" he said, his voice cold. He glared tearfully at Harry as he stood up. "I thought you would understand," he said.

Then he turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. The trio could hear his tiny footsteps pattering, quickening as he ran along the cold floor.

"Well. That went well" Ron commented.

"Aren't you going to go after him?" Hermione asked.

"Should I?" Harry replied.

"Fine, if you won't, I will!" Hermione stormed to the door. She turned back. "I don't know what's wrong with you today Harry, but if you think bullying a small kid is the answer, you're wrong"

With that, she left the room.

Hermione found Draco sitting, head bowed, outside the castle by the Great Lake. He had taken off his socks and shoes and rolled his trousers up, and was now kicking his feet gently in the water. He didn't seem to care that the water was freezing cold.

"Hey!" Hermione walked over.

"Oh, are _you_ going to tell me off now?" Draco asked angrily. Hermione sat down beside him silently.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked after a while. Draco didn't reply.

"Um… you know, there are mermaids in there" Hermione said.

There was a tiny "oh".

"They might catch your feet and drag you down if you stay there too long"

"It's too cold for them to come up. And mermaids don't eat humans"

"They can drag you down anyway"

"So my rotting corpse can mess up their floor?"

Hermione chuckled. "You know, you're pretty smart for a six-year-old"

"I'm eight"

"Smart for an eight-year-old, then"

"Its just logic"

"Still"

There was a short silence.

"You don't have to stick up for me," Draco said.

"What?"

"I know Harry disl- hates me"

"No he doesn't"

"He yells at me for everything" Draco took his feet out of the lake and placed them onto the grass, turning to face Hermione. He placed his arms on top of his knees. "He yells at me for telling my own name"

"Well, maybe he wouldn't get angry if you told your true name"

"It _is_ my true name!" Draco said angrily. "Why doesn't anyone believe me?"

"Maybe because Malfoy left this school two years ago. And he _wasn't_ eight years old"

"You prefer I lie then?"

"No, but-"

"Well then, my name is Draco Malfoy"

"It's just…" Hermione hesitated. "Harry… he didn't like Malfoy when he was around"

"Why?"

"He… was just really mean to him"

The little boy frowned. "How could I make him mad if I don't even _remember_ making him mad?"

"See, that's the thing" Hermione said. "Harry didn't like Malfoy, and now you turn up… it just makes him mad"

"But I didn't do anything"

"It doesn't seem to matter, apparently"

Draco looked at the lake then turned his head back. "Do you believe me?"

"Believe… what?"

"That I'm Draco Malfoy"

"It's a bit hard to believe actually," Hermione admitted. Draco frowned.

"Would it be easier to think of me as someone else?" he asked.

"Maybe… b-"

"Fine" Draco said, sticking his hand out. "My name's Daryn. Hello"

Hermione stared at his small hand and laughed as she took it. "Hello, my name's-"

"Hermione. I know"

"It's okay you know" Hermione said. "You don't have to make up another name for yourself"

"No it's not" Draco was dead serious. "If it's easier to think of me as another person, then… I'll be another person"

Hermione smiled. "You know… just don't worry about it, alright? I'm sure Harry'll get over it soon enough"

Draco looked sad. "I hope so"

"If you don't mind my asking… why are you so… enthusiastic, on Harry liking you?"

Draco furrowed his brow and for an instant Hermione thought he didn't understand her. Then he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well…" she shrugged. "Malfoy never liked Harry before"

"Why do you keep referring to me as another person?" Draco asked. Hermione blinked.

"I… I don't know, he just seems like an entirely different person from you, I guess"

"He's not"

"How do you know?"

Draco looked at Hermione, straight in the eyes. "How many Draco Malfoys can there be?"

"True" Hermione admitted. There was a pause. "You haven't answered my question"

"I…" Draco trailed off and looked away. "I don't know"

Hermione remained silent and after a while Draco continued. "I don't remember… I suddenly appeared into an old man's –the headmaster I think- office and the first thing I thought of was Harry and then all these other images kept coming to me and all I could remember was Harry and-"

"Hey, slow down!" Hermione said hurriedly.

Draco put his head in his arms. "I don't know… all I remembered was him… all I could think of was 'get to Harry, get to Harry'… like he was going to protect me"

"Protect you from what?" Hermione asked softly.

"I… I don't remember" Draco said and his small body shook as he started to cry.

Draco padded quietly to Harry's room and pushed open the door. Tired, he made his way to the bed… then turned and walked to a corner of the room where he huddled himself down to sleep.

Half an hour later the raven-haired teen walked in. He went to his bed then saw the boy sleeping there, in the darkest corner, knees curled up to his chest, head tilted, sleeping quietly. Harry hesitated then took his blanket. He walked up to the child and wrapped it snugly around his small shoulders, then went to his bed to sleep. Draco stirred and blinked sleepily, then realized the blanket around him. He looked at the bed where Harry slept and smiled.

A/N: I got the Bossy Bookworm idea from an RPG blog I saw online… go to 


	3. Ron

My name is Ron Weasley. It's my birthday in two days.

But that's irrelevant. This isn't about me. It's about him.

Malfoy.

The slimiest, sneakiest, most arrogant git on the face of the planet. To say that I hate him would be a complete understatement. He's been trying to make our lives hell for years, doing the most dirty, underhand tricks ever. I wouldn't find it surprisingly if he were really a Death Eater. He's the exact epitome of Slytherin.

I can't begin to say how happy I was when he left in the fifth year. Happy? More like joyful. 'Giddy with glee'.

For some reason Harry didn't seem so happy though. He was downright furious, though only he knows why. Him and Malfoy, I suppose. I don't know what Malfoy did to him, the bastard. He just couldn't leave us alone; he just had to get in that last jibe or whatever, just before he left. Harry did a nice number on him before he left at least; I personally would have made sure the prick would never be able to walk out in public without a mask ever. But that's Harry for you. A good boy, all the way.

Harry was jolted awake by Ron's horrified screeching.

"Wha?" he sat up.

And saw the tiny body huddled up beside him.

"ARGH!" he hollered and with a huge push, sent Draco flying off the bed to skid roughly on the floor.

"What the hell were you doing in my bed?" Harry demanded. Draco uncurled and yawned, then replied.

"I thought you might be cold"

"How would you know if I were cold or not?"

"You gave me your blanket" Draco said.

"Well, I wasn't cold"

"I didn't know that"

"You didn't have to assume it"

"Next time I'll just let you freeze"

"Next time I won't give you my blanket"

Draco paused then grinned. "Fair enough"

Harry had about a million different retorts to say, but what Draco said came as completely unexpected and he was found speechless. Instead, he scowled and stormed to the toilet, slamming the door. Draco looked at Ron, mouth gaping open by the door.

"He's very cuddly when he's asleep. You should try it someday," he said.

In the toilet Harry heard Ron's loud yell, footsteps running away and Draco's child-like, high-pitched laughter.

"Quidditch match tomorrow Harry, remember" a girl said, passing him. Harry recognized her as the new Gryffindor Captain; a girl called Acorn Rossaine. She was a full year younger than him, and even though she was his 'superior' in Quidditch she talked to him with the utmost respect.

Well, she didn't bellow at him as Wood had, at any rate.

"Against who?"

She sighed. "I told you yesterday, Harry"

"I forgot"

"Slytherin, remember?"

"Slytherin… right, right"

Acorn smiled at him then walked away.

"Slytherin…" Draco mused, standing next to the raven-haired Gryffindor.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Who's Slytherin?" Draco asked. Harry felt startled.

"Slytherin's a house"

"House?"

"Why do I even bother?" Harry stalked off. Draco hurried to keep up with him.

"It's the snake one, right?" he asked. Harry halted. Draco shrugged.

"Not very hard… Slytherin, slithering, snakes. Which house is the lion?"

"Gryffindor"

"Oh" Draco fell silent, but was soon talking again. "Gryffindor must be really good"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's lion" Draco said. "Brave, strong and courageous"

"Oh"

"Is Slytherin bad then?"

Harry frowned, and Draco elaborated. "Snake. Sly. And if poisonous, highly dangerous. Faster death than by a lion anyway. And the name says enough, doesn't it?"

"What did you say your name was again?"

Draco considered. "Daryn"

"Really?"

"No"

Harry sighed and started the pace again. Draco stayed behind for a while, staring at the large snake emblem hanging on the wall, then chased after Harry as fast as his legs could take him.

"Do you want it to be Daryn?"

"I just want you to tell me the truth"

"Really?" Draco asked softly.

"Of course! Why wouldn-"

"Because I've been telling the truth all this time, and you refuse to believe me. So the truth hurts and you don't want to accept it"

A flicker of something crossed Harry's face then was soon gone. Draco saw it, and finally kept silent, storing that piece of information in his head; yes, he was right, the truth did hurt the teen, and Draco was determined to find out what he had done that was so bad. Harry clenched his fists and for an instant Draco tensed, flinched, afraid that Harry was going to hit him. Then Harry turned and walked away slowly, and Draco relaxed.

He didn't follow.

"Ron?"

The redhead jumped and whirled around, dropping a huge pile of books onto himself. He looked to see who it was and groaned.

"Oh brilliant, Malfoy, thank you so much" he said, kneeling down to pick them up. Draco knelt down next to him.

"Sorry" he said and picked up a book. Ron started.

"What?"

"You're saying sorry?" Ron asked incredulously. Draco looked confused.

"You prefer I kick you in the ribs?"

"Ye- I mean no! It's… Malfoy would never say sorry to anyone"

"You believe I'm Draco?"

"Who are you then?"

"Draco"

"There you are"

"What if I said I was someone else… say… Daryn?"

Ron considered. "I might believe you"

"Might?"

"Probably not. After that fracas with Harry about your name being Draco"

"My name _is_ Draco, you know"

"Yeah, sure"

"Why don't people believe me?"

"Because…" Ron paused. "Because Malfoy was a selfish, arrogant, slimy git"

"And I'm not?"

"Questioning, that's what you are"

"So then who am I?"

"Why don't you answer that for me?"

Draco looked at Ron helplessly. "I don't know. I say my name is Draco, but no one believes me. And when people do believe me, they always call me Malfoy"

Ron was silent.

"Am I really that bad?" Draco asked.

"You? No. Malfoy? Yes"

"But we're the same"

"How do you know that?"

"Do you know another Draco Malfoy?"

"No" Ron answered honestly.

"Draco's not a common name. Neither is Malfoy"

"I know"

"So I'm Draco Malfoy"

"I know"

"So why do you refer to me and me as different people?"

Ron frowned. He was getting immensely confused. "I don't know. You're just… different"

"Different to myself?"

"Yes"

"How?"

"Can you not ask me so many questions…"

"How am I different to myself?" Draco pressed.

Ron sighed. "Well for one thing, Mal- the other Malfoy wouldn't ever be having this conversation with me. If he and I were talking… I wouldn't call it talking. I'd be pummeling his slimy face into the floor by now"

"And you don't want to hit me?"

"If you keep asking questions I might just reconsider"

Draco grinned. He stood up and handed Ron a pile of books he had picked up. "Why do you have so many books anyway?"

"Hermione asked me to help her take them to her"

"Why?"

"Bogged down with homework"

"She works too much"

"No joke"

"Why doesn't she take a break?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

"She's too busy"

"Well there you are. That's why she doesn't take a break"

"But busy people need to take breaks too"

"Tell that to her"

"She's too busy"

Ron sighed in aggravation. "You're going round in circles"

"Oh. Do you need help with those books?"

Ron looked startled. "Uh… alright" he said, leaning down so Draco could take some.

Draco surprised Ron by taking half the stack.

Draco sat in Ron's room, watching the teen work on his studies. "Ron?" 

"What?" Ron asked slightly irritably.

"Are you busy?"

"Does it _look_ like I'm busy?" Ron asked, gesturing to the piles of books and scrolls stacked on his table. Draco walked up to the table and hefted himself up by his arms.

"This doesn't sound very believing" he said, pointing at something on Ron's paper.

"Yes, well, it's Divination. It doesn't have to sound believing"

"Mars is in alignment with the Earth and so I shall fall into the Great Lake and be consumed by many tiny man-eating jellyfish?" Draco read.

"What about it?'

"It's the phrasing. Not very convincing. Try 'because Mars is in alignment with the Earth this month I will drown in the Great Lake'"

"Rather short, isn't it?"

"Better than the jellyfish idea"

"Hm"

"Or… you could say that you drown because you walk too close to the Great Lake and the mermen pull you under"

Ron thought about it then grinned. "Perfect"

"Of course, that'll put a bad light on the mermen"

"Who cares? No one takes this stuff seriously anyway," Ron said, scribbling messily on the scroll. Draco fell back into silence.

"Ron?" he asked a while later.

"What is it?"

"Why does Harry hate me so much?"

_That_ got Ron's attention. He dropped his quill.

"I mean, he doesn't even call me Malfoy like you and Hermione do. Why? What did I do?"

"I don't know" Ron said honestly.

"Yes you do; you're his best friend, how can you not know?"

"How do you know I'm his best friend?"

"I can see how close you two are"

"That sounds bad" Ron joked. Draco frowned then realized.

"I mean as brothers"

"I know, I was kidding"

Draco looked at Ron with his ice-blue eyes. "I know"

Ron squirmed a little despite himself under the intensity of those eyes and Draco continued. "What did I do that was so terrible to you and Hermione and Harry?"

"_You_ didn't do anything"

"Don't give me that stuff about 'Malfoy' doing it. He's me, and I don't know what I've done, so tell me"

"Well well. How do I start. You've been trying to make our lives hell since the first day in Hogwarts"

"How?"

"Well, for one, calling Hermione Mudblood. Calling me Weasel. Calling Harry Scarhead, amongst various others"

"Name calling can't be the _only_ reason"

Ron shook his head; no, it wasn't. "You would forever keep trying to get us into trouble. Not just us; Hagrid too. The Gamekeeper"

"I've seen him. Big guy"

"You kept trying to get him fired. You tried to get us expelled. You would yell abuse to us, time and time again"

"I was that bad?"

"That didn't even _begin_ it"

Draco was silent. "Why are you so nice to me then?"

"I honestly don't know. Because you're a little kid. Because I somehow doubt that you're Malfoy. Because you're not a bit like him, however much you say you _are_ him"

"Harry doesn't think so"

"What does he think?"

"You're his best friend. You should know"

Ron sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Unfortunately, I don't. Yes, Harry's my best friend; he'll always be my best friend. But after M- you left Hogwarts, he started distancing himself… I don't know him that well anymore"

"Yes we still talk" the redhead continued, seeing Draco open his mouth. "Yes we talk about stuff like Quidditch. We talk normally. But whenever I get to… to _that_ subject, he goes all silent and closes himself up, like he has something to hide"

"What subject is that?" Draco asked softly. Ron looked at the small boy with his emerald green eyes.

"You"

"Come on now, we want to get good seats" Hermione said.

"MmIwannasleep" Draco said groggily, rubbing his eyes. Harry, true to his word, hadn't given him a blanket that night. In fact, Draco had gone to the room to find it locked. He had eventually gone to sleep in a very uncomfortable position on the Gryffindor sofa, where Hermione had found him the next morning.

"You can sleep in the stands"

"Wannasleepnow…" Draco mumbled but followed. Hermione approached the stands and saw Ron waving at them. She hurried to join him.

"Hey Hermione you're late"

"Yes, well, Malfoy wouldn't move any faster"

"Sleepy" Draco said drowsily.

"Why didn't you just pick him up?"

"I'm not a baby!" Draco said somewhat indignantly.

"Look, they're coming!" Hermione said. Draco looked down. At one end of the pitch a team whooshed out on broomsticks, dressed in splendid colors of red and gold. At the other end, the other team flew out, dressed in greens and silvers. The teams flew around each other, exchanging sneers and taunts. The sense of excited competition was thick in the air.

"Alright everybody, let's make this a fair game, alright?" Hooch said. 

"As if" Ron muttered. Draco wondered what he meant by that statement.

"Ready? Go!"

Almost immediately the balls zoomed out, and instantaneously players were rushing around the field.

"What's the point of this game?" Draco asked Hermione. Hermione looked at Draco strangely then answered.

"The Seeker -that's Harry, for Gryffindor- has to catch the Snitch. Once he does, the game is over"

"That's it?" Draco looked disgusted.

"The Snitch is very small. Often it takes ages to be found. Plus, he has to catch it before the other Seeker does, and in the meantime has to avoid all the Bludgers"

"What does the Snitch look like?"

"Like a small golden ball with wings, I suppose"

Draco looked and pointed. "Like that?"

Hermione looked. "Yes, exactly l- HARRY! THE SNITCH!"

Harry saw. He dived for it, just as the Slytherin Seeker dove for it. Draco felt his blood race with excitement as he saw Harry near the Snitch, hand outstretched.

_He's going to get it_, he thought. _He's going to get it._

So he was relatively shocked when he saw a large Slytherin Beater ram his body straight into Harry, sending him careening into the ground.

"FOUL! UNFAIR!" Ron yelled, and the rest of the Gryffindors were yelling the same. Draco leaned over the stands.

"Is he okay?"

"I don't know" Hermione said, looking over anxiously. To their relief, Harry got back onto his broom quickly, brushing off his trouser leg briefly.

"He's bleeding" Draco said.

"Don't worry. A few scratches can't harm him!" Ron said proudly. Draco looked at the Slytherin Seeker; watched as an expression of smugness turned back to pure hatred.

"That was really unfair," he said, staring in anger at the green and silver Seeker.

"Yeah… look, they're off again!"

And so they were. The game dragged on for hours, and soon Draco got bored, only jumping up when the Slytherin Keeper attempted to smash the Gryffindor Chaser's face into the hoop.

So far, the Slytherins were winning by a huge amount. Draco sighed. Why didn't just catch that damned Snitch already?

He looked at Ron and Hermione. They were completely engrossed in the game. Draco sighed again, then thought of something.

If everyone was here… then there was no one in the castle…

With that, he crept away silently, hoping that no one would notice.

The door to Harry's room creaked open as the small boy snuck inside, closing it gently behind him. The silence of the castle unnerved him somewhat; he almost wished for someone to come find him.

_Stay focused_, he reminded himself firmly. He looked around on Harry's desk. Everything was normal; quills, inkwell, scrolls and books. His eyes suddenly wandered to a chest that he hadn't seen before. He ran to it and knelt down, trying to open it. It was locked.

"What does he keep in here…" he wondered. He stepped back and walked to Harry's bedside table. He saw a long, polish stick of wood; Harry's wand. He obviously had forgotten to take it with him. Holding it in his hand, he walked back to the chest, shaking with excitement.

"Now, how does this work…" he said. He waved it around expectantly. Nothing happened.

"Open" he said. Nothing.

"Open… now"

Still nothing.

"I command you to open"

Nothing.

Draco frowned. He seemed to remember something… a spell…

"Alo… Alohomora"

A red beam shot out of the wand, flinging him violently backwards into the wall. He went back to the chest angrily.

"Why won't you open?" he yelled. Then, for a reason he didn't know the answer to, maybe because he was so angry, he rammed the wand into the lock.

The lock exploded and the tip of the wand cracked, a long crack that went the whole way down a half of it. Draco leapt back.

"Uh oh…" he said. Then noticed that now the chest was open, and ran to it.

"Wow…" he murmured, lifting out something. "What is this…"

He noticed that, when he held it on his hand, his hand disappeared. "An Invisibility Cloak…"

He put it back into the chest neatly then took out the next item. A photo album, filled with pictures of a redheaded woman Draco had never seen before, a man who looked like an adult version of Harry, and a baby. He assumed that they were Harry's parents. 

_They look nice_, he thought as he closed the book and returned it. He pushed away layers of clothes and objects; some he looked at and examined, such as the Omnioculars, but didn't take much interest in them. He took great care to return everything to where it was before. Finally, he came to something at the bottom. He took it out carefully. It was a piece of parchment, slightly yellowed in age but still in pristine condition. He examined the writing. It was elegantly perfect; slanted ever so slightly, with all the loops and ticks in the right place with not a single blotch. He stared at it.

_This looks important. I'll look at it later_, he thought, putting the paper in his pocket. He looked down. There were only two more items left. He reached in and took the first one out. It was a picture of a boy around two years younger than Harry. He wore a tight black turtleneck sweater, his snowy blonde hair gleaming softly in the light of the moon. He wore a slightly surprised expression, a 'caught' expression, one which turned to an arrogant smirk. Draco stared at it. It looked familiar. But… he couldn't place it. Still, he kept the photograph in his memory, and placed it back. He took out the last object and slowly unwrapped it from its thick, soft covering. He breathed out in awe and held it up to the light.

"Wow…" he said. He turned the object round, watching as the light bounded and reflected.

It was a crystal rose, elegantly shaped, the petals thin and delicate. Upon closer look it seemed as if there was a real rose inside, midnight black, trapped by a case of crystal. Draco touched a petal tentatively. It was ice cold. He quickly drew his finger back, afraid that he might break it. He looked closely at the stalk. Near the tip of the stalk, where it blossomed into the flower, he could see something curling round and round. He looked closer. It was a tiny dragon, almost completely hidden by the petals. Draco frowned. Where would Harry get such an object? He wrapped it carefully back in the thick cloth and placed it back, covering it by the clothes. As he piled the clothes and object back, he wondered, _it's so delicate… why does Harry keep it at the bottom? Isn't he afraid it'll break?_

No matter. Draco closed the trunk and suddenly remembered the broken lock and wand. He placed the lock back onto the trunk, hoping that Harry wouldn't go opening it any time soon, and hid the wand inside Harry's duvet. Then he walked back out to the Quidditch game, his head full of unanswered questions.

Only when he got out he realized how long he had taken. He had gotten lost in the castle, only found by a house elf about two hours after he left the Gryffindor dorms. He had been taken down to the kitchen where he ate hungrily, talking with a particularly interesting house elf named Dobby, who had almost keeled over with shock (for some strange reason) when he saw him. Finally, a few hours later, when he wandered back into the Quidditch stands, it was late afternoon. The sun had already set, and it was the dark blue of the coming night.

"Where have you been?" Hermione asked when Draco walked to her. The boy detected anger in her voice.

"In the castle"

"You know how scared I was? I thought I lost you!"

"You were engrossed with the game"

"That was hours ago!"

"I got bored hours ago"

"That's not the point"

"I know"

"Frustrating, isn't he?" Ron asked, grinning.

"Are you hungry?" Draco asked.

"Why?" Hermione asked. Draco held up a small bag. "I asked Dobby to make some cupcakes"

"Food!" Ron seized the bag and grabbed the first cupcake he could get, chocolate chip.

"Mmm… _sho_ good!" he munched. Hermione took out the next cupcake, blueberry flavored.

"When did you see Dobby?" she asked Draco, staring at him strangely. Draco shrugged.

"I saw a house elf. She took me to the kitchen. Dobby was there. Nice guy"

Hermione spluttered on her cupcake and Ron snorted. Draco felt a bit confused, but said nothing of it.

"Do Quidditch matches always take this long?" he asked. Hermione hesitated.

"No actually… normally it's a lot faster"

"Oh" Draco put him head on his arms. "Why is it taking so long? Hasn't Harry seen the Snitch _yet_?"

"Apparently not"

Draco sighed and watched the game. Five minutes later, he spoke.

"It's there," he pointed to the direction. Hermione squinted then started waving. Harry saw her, and she, Draco and Ron started looking very obviously at the Snitch. Harry saw it. He didn't waste any time signaling back; he immediately tilted the broom down and zoomed toward the Snitch. The Slytherin Seeker hadn't even seen him move until it was too late; he had been sitting lazily on his broom, keeping a not very watchful eye on the game, clearly bored out of his mind. When he finally did move to chase after Harry, Harry had already gotten the Snitch, holding it triumphantly over his head. Only a few people noticed this.

"HE'S GOT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR'S WON!" Ron started leaping up and down in excitement, just as the rest of the Gryffindors burst into a mad frenzy of cheering.

"Harry's got the Snitch!" the announcer yelled, and finally the rest of the school woke up and started cheering. Draco noticed with some mild amusement that some of the Slytherins were cheering as well.

_Probably happy that it's finally over_.

"Come on!" Ron said, grabbing his hand and dragging him along. Draco yelped as he was dragged through a rushing, pushing mass of red and gold. He let go of Ron and ran to the side, clutching it tightly so he wouldn't get swept into the crowd again. He watched as the Gryffindors ran down and cheered with Harry, threw him into the air. Draco looked at the happy grins and smiles on their faces, especially Harry's. He never seemed to look happy. He suddenly realized that the Gryffindor stand was now empty and contemplated going down and joining them. He looked at Harry again.

_No_, he thought. _I'll make things worse. Harry should be happy._

He sighed sadly, feeling a pang in his heart. He didn't know why, and he sighed again as his head started to hurt. He knew so little. Why did Harry hate him so much? Why did he even _care_ whether Harry hated him or not? Why was even getting a simple smile out of Harry such a big deal? Ron and Hermione were so nice to him… why did he keep going to Harry? He wasn't stupid; that much was certain. 

And yet only a fool would keep going to someone who obviously hated him so much.

He tried hard to remember back, but the only thing he could remember was yesterday, when he had been thrown through a chimney into Dumbledore's office. All he could think of then had been 'Harry, Harry, get to Harry'. Why? He had been scared, but of what? And why Harry?

Draco remembered seeing Harry, when he had walked into the classroom with McGonagall, terrified, cowering. He frowned.

_What was I so scared of?_

He remembered Harry. He remembered what had gone through his head; he looks different. As if he remembered him, and yet he could swear that he had never seen him before. And then Ron and Hermione… they seemed to know him, and yet he didn't remember them. If it were true that he had once been to Hogwarts it would explain why he remembered Harry, but why not Ron or Hermione? And… why was he only eight?

He knew the Draco they talked about was him and yet he couldn't remember. He didn't even know really how he knew. He just felt this… this voice, in his head, saying, "That's you, that's you Draco, that's you".

He walked to a chair and sat down, watching the Gryffindors carry their triumphant team on their shoulders inside.

_Who was that boy in the picture? Where did Harry get the rose? And why does he hide it at the bottom of the chest?_

"Too many questions…" Draco murmured. He looked up into the sky, now a dark blue-black.

"What are you hiding?" he asked to no one in particular. His gaze shifted to the moon.

_Wow. It's beautiful_, he thought randomly, and shuddered at the sudden strong feeling of déjà vu which seemed to travel down his whole spine, freezing him. His hands suddenly starting to ball into fists, and his whole back blazed with fire and ice, like currents charging up and down his backbone.

_What…_

Every hair on his head stood up sharply, almost as if trying to embrace the moon. The hairs on his nape stood on end as a shock flew to his brain, like a jolt of sizzling electricity. His jaw started to hurt as his hair suddenly shot out of his scalp, long spikes hanging over his sweating forehead and cascading down his back. It hurt so much, and yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from the moon, the glowing, white moon…

And then his eyes turned silver.


	4. Draco

My name is Draco Malfoy. Bet you don't believe me either. No one else does. I really don't know why. I-

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" the boy screamed in agony. He clutched his head, clutched it hard as jolts of electricity buzzed into his brains. His backbone stiffened and he sat painfully upright. There was a ripping noise in his trousers and he felt… something… push out of the new hole in his trousers. His muscles suddenly tensed, and finally he could look away; he squeezed his eyes tight shut in pain as he felt bones break, crack; rejoin. He felt something spray out of his face and body, and suddenly realized he was on all fours. He felt his arms, legs and chest thicken, and the shirt and sweater ripped right off him as his torso grew larger.

He suddenly remembered something… someone, telling him never to look at the moon. A fleeting thought… then was gone as quickly as it came, as other thoughts took over, more dominant thoughts. Running, fighting, biting… inside him, something cried out in fear, but it was too late to be afraid, far too late.

Draco whirled around and snarled. He was hungry.

"Where _is_ he?" Hermione walked through the corridors.

"I don't know, he was right next to me!" Ron said.

"Why didn't you keep an eye on him?" Hermione asked agitatedly.

"I did!"

"Then where is he?"

"I don't know!"

"You didn't keep a very good eye on him, did you?"

"I don't know… I was pulling him through the crowd and the suddenly he let go and ran off!"

Hermione ran a hand through her hair. "This is bad"

"I know…"

"He could be _anywhere_! He's not in Gryffindor, not in the kitchen… we've even checked _Slytherin_!"

"They were _not_ too happy to see us," Ron said.

"Where can he be…"

"He's kinda smart, I don't think he'd go anywhere he shouldn't…"

"Yes, but the problem is he doesn't know _where_ he shouldn't go!"

"Well how bad can it be?"

Hermione turned to look at Ron in the eyes. "The Forbidden Forest?"

Ron turned pale. "Ohhh crap"

"Exa-"

"Shh" Ron covered her mouth. He frowned. "Do you hear something?"

Suddenly a huge weight bounded straight onto his chest, slamming him down onto the ground. Hermione shrieked. Ron stared, terrified, at his attacker. All he could see were the eyes, two glowing, silver orbs. The eyes suddenly turned crystal blue, the terrified eyes of a human then changed back.

"Malfoy?" Ron squawked then quickly brought his arms up to shield his face as the thing forced its head down at him, jaws gnashing, salivating. He grabbed the mouth with his arms and pushed it up.

"OmigodRonwhat_is_it?" Hermione screamed.

"You're asking _me_?"

"Omigodomigod…"

"_DO SOMETHING!_"

Coming to her senses, Hermione quickly whipped out her wand and said the first word that came into her head.

"Rictusempra!"

With a surprised howl the creature was thrown off the redhead's chest and spun in a mini whirlwind until smashing against a wall. Now that it was in the light the pair could see what it was.

"A _werewolf_?" Hermione exclaimed. The creature got up shakily, unharmed, and looked at the two and snarled.

"Hermione…" Ron said shakily from the floor.

"Get up Ron hurry!"

Ron got up, his knees wobbly from fear. "Hermione…"

Hermione raised her wand again. "Stupe-"

"No!" Ron grabbed her wrist.

"What?"

"That… I think it's…"

The werewolf looked at the two and uttered a low, guttural snarl, before turning and bounding to another direction.

"I think that was Malfoy" Ron said with a breath. Hermione's eyes widened.

"But…"

"I know… but his eyes… they changed…"

Hermione started to run in the other direction.

"Hermione-!"

"Come on Ron, hurry! If there's a werewolf in the school we have to tell a teacher, be it Malfoy or not!"

Hermione… Ron… 

The werewolf stopped and sniffed in the air. Its ears twitched. Humans. It moved quickly into the shadows where it watched intently as two girls walked by, both from Ravenclaw.

Food.

No… no… 

The lycanthrope tensed its muscles, readied itself for attack.

A bit closer…

It leaped.

NO! 

It halted in midair, paws skidding wildly on the floor. It scrabbled for the shadows, just as the girls turned to look.

Inside, Draco felt thankful. He had been so afraid earlier with Ron… he really had almost eaten him. The werewolf instincts were so strong… overpowering his mind… and Ron had smelt so good…

_I must be stronger. I must take control._

But even as he thought these thoughts, he felt his body taking him elsewhere.

Dumbledore stood up at the news.

"This is very serious… alright. Go back to Gryffindor, and tell everyone to stay in their dormitories. Do not come out, at any circumstance. I'll go and tell the rest of the teachers. Tell any students you pass to be on the lookout, and to return to their dorms"

He started to walk off.

"Uh… sir?" Ron said.

"Yes?"

"One more thing… I think the werewolf's Malfoy"

"I'm not sure of course," he added hastily. "But I'm pretty sure"

"How are you sure?" Dumbledore asked.

"I… I don't know, his eyes just… and Malfoy's missing…"

The headmaster frowned. "Alright. Return to your dorms"

_Where am I going?_ Draco wondered. Inwardly, he marveled at the body of the werewolf. Every muscle was strong, powerful, and capable of stunning a human with one blow. The claws were razor sharp; Draco doubted if there was anything it wouldn't be able to cut. His eyesight was extraordinary. Draco could see tiny details that he wouldn't have seen were he human, and he could see a lot further off. Also, the dark didn't seem to bother him in the least.

_Of course not._

What amazed him the most was the werewolf's acute sense of smell. Draco could move past a wall and with one sniff be able to tell who had leaned against the wall, and in some cases, he could tell what they had eaten for dinner.

He didn't know what he looked like, but he knew he was bigger than he had been in human form. After all, he had managed to slam Ron down onto the floor without effort. And… he scared people.

When Draco had looked into Ron's eyes… he had seen his own, reflected in them. It had scared him. He had never seen such a metallic sheen of silver for eyes in his life. Neither had he seen such fear in a person's face, and for a second, his own fear was reflected in the eyes of the other. He had never felt more relieved when Hermione had cast that spell on him… and it hadn't hurt either, just stunned him for a moment.

Draco mentally shook himself. _Pay attention, don't let the werewolf take over!_

He noticed he was in front of a wall, waiting in the shadows. For what?

He saw a boy walk up to a painting. Neville.

"Wormwood" he said. The door slowly opened and the boy walked in. Draco felt himself padding in after him, following sneakily in the shadows.

_Why am I going into Gryffindor?_ he wondered.

Then he realized.

_No no no no NO!_

Harry sighed in bliss, letting the hot water roll off his hair down to his shoulders. After that long day, a shower had never felt better.

He didn't know what went wrong. That had been the longest Quidditch game he had ever had. It was just… he kept getting distracted… every time he saw the Slytherins…

He shrugged and smiled. It didn't matter. Gryffindor had won. The past… the past was the past, nothing to be dwelled on.

He lathered his hair and washed thoroughly, getting his fingers through every midnight curl, scrubbing at his scalp. He then stood with his back facing the shower and rolled his shoulders round, hearing the welcoming crack of weary bones. Harry turned the water on full blast and washed the remaining shampoo suds out of his hair, then got out into the steaming bathroom, toweling himself off quickly. He left his hair wet. Hermione always told him how bad it was for his hair, but tonight, he had scored a victory for Gryffindor and so didn't care what she said. He put on a pair of loose gray trousers and a light shirt then walked out.

And was slammed to the ground.

_No no no no no!_

Draco tried with every fiber of his mind to take the werewolf body back into control, but to no avail. He towered on top of Harry, tail lashing from side to side, jaw slavering, slobber drooling out of his mouth.

He smells nice… hungry…

_NO!_

Harry looked up at the werewolf, almost as in a daze.

_Harry! Harry no! Look! Wake up! Stop me stop me stop me!_

The werewolf suddenly lunged his head down, the way it had done with Ron. A pair of strong, bronzed hands flew up and grabbed it by the snout and lower jaw, holding the mouth wide open. 

Draco almost sobbed with relief.

Harry curled his back under the werewolf, brought his legs in front of him and kicked as hard as he could. The werewolf flew off and skidded on the floor on its side but got up quickly, unharmed. It snarled again. Draco could feel it. This time it wasn't going to let its prey get away.

_Harry, run!_

The werewolf leapt again, but this time Harry was ready. He rolled to one side and the animal crashed headlong into Harry's study table.

_Harry, hurry, take out your wand, do something…_

Harry did nothing. He stood casually in the room, not even in a fighting stance, almost daring the werewolf to come at him. Draco could feel the bubbling anger, the bloodlust, and with a feral snarl he felt the werewolf leap again. Harry dodged, but the werewolf wasn't going to be caught again. This time it landed lightly on its paws and let its momentum carry it to the wall, then quickly used the wall to push off, flying straight at Harry. Again, Harry dodged, then stood, arms crossed, daring.

_Is he MAD?_ Draco wanted to scream. _Stop, please, stop, STOP!_

The werewolf circled around Harry, now wary of its opponent. Harry wasn't going to just stand there and let the werewolf kill him. With a sickening realization Draco felt the werewolf thinking; go for the throat.

But how to do it…

_Please, please, stop…_

What, now? And give up my prey? No, this is too much fun.

_This is murder!_

Survival of the fittest, the wolf seemed to reply. Draco could feel the werewolf's thoughts… pounce at him? No, he'll only dodge again. Run? No. But… there has to be some way…

There.

The wolf uttered a low snarl at Harry then ran for his window and leapt out. If Draco could have, he would have screamed. But he couldn't. The werewolf seemed pretty confident though. It suddenly whirled around and dug its claws into the side of the castle, buying purchase on the rough bricks of the walls. Its muscles started to ache immediately; it was difficult to hold onto a castle wall by only its claws. Still, it crawled up, bit by bit, until it was directly under the window, only stopping once to purposefully kick a huge chunk of rock off onto the ground. Again, Draco had to marvel at the strength of the beast. 

_But what's the point of… OH._

Sure enough, a while later, Harry came to the window to see what had happened. And it attacked.

The werewolf pushed off with its powerful hind legs, and, using its front paws, pushed on the windowsill to get it horizontal again, resulting in it knocking Harry over so it was back to square one.

_NO!_

The werewolf snarled maliciously, a hungry glint in its eyes. Harry struggled and raised his arms up again, but the lycanthrope delivered a powerful hit to the Gryffindor's face, leaving a deep red scratch which started to bleed immediately. Inside, Draco started to cry, while the werewolf almost went mad with the smell, to gorgeous, tantalizing smell…

Blood. Warm, still coursing from the body…

It had to have it.

It lunged down, one more time, sure that now its prey was helpless.

**_NO!_**

The beast froze for an instant, and Harry saw, saw the immediate change in the eyes, from evil metallic silver to the scared crystal blue. And with the reflexes of a well-trained Seeker, he seized the opportunity.

This time, he didn't try to kick the lycanthrope off. He grabbed its jaws again, like he had done before. The eyes suddenly switched back to liquid silver and Harry knew that Draco had lost control. It didn't matter now. He let the werewolf press its mouth down to his face, wrestling with the jaws to keep them closed.

Then, when their faces were so close…

Harry didn't really know why he did it. He didn't mean to. He had meant to punch it. Or kick it in the chest and try to break its ribs. He didn't mean to do what he did.

He leaned forward and kissed it on the mouth.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed my last chapter… 21 people, that's quite a record. Gave me heart failure when I opened up my e-mail the next day. Some people got it right, obviously. Yes Draco's a lycanthrope. ^^ And loads of people guessed why Harry's so pissed correctly. To 'Different Perception'… thanks for telling me about adding the punctuation thing. But, being the mad nutter that I am, I've already written and uploaded up to chapter… 6. So that even if I decide to take a break (like I normally do) I can still post chapters for you guys to read. Also meaning that I don't leave people on cliffhangers (literally) forever like I tend to do. Unfortunately, that means I hafta go through all the next few chapters editing, and me, being a lazy bum, can't be bothered. So… thanks again for that, and I'm sorry. I'll try remember that for later chapters.

As well as being a mad nutter and a lazy bum, I am also a brainless idiot. I didn't realize how many people liked eight-year-old Draco. And… well… eh.

Just wondering. If I change Draco back, how many people want me to write a kinda arc/different storyline thing with child Draco instead of teen? Cuz it's a bit too late for me to change it now. I don't mind, just that it'll take me longer to update… 

One last thing. I've changed the characters a bit in the next few chapters. Minor things; mainly how other authors perceive the characters, such as Pansy and the relationship between Draco and Lucius (NOT in a slashy way) in particular. I'm experimenting with making my fic as unique as possible. So I'm not being ignorant; I _have _read the books and watched the movies, I'm just trying stuff out.

Okay, that was long. Sorry all. And yeah, another horrible cliffhanger. I've been reading too much _Ender's Game_. Don't kill me.


	5. Pansy

My name is Pansy Parkinson. I'm in my seventh year of Hogwarts, and the most popular girl in Slytherin, the _best_ house in the entire school.

The last Quidditch match doesn't count.

Well I suppose it does. But it wasn't fair anyway. Gryffindor cheated. They've got _Potter_. And besides… Basil's a lousy Seeker.

I admit. Slytherin hasn't been at its best for almost… one and a half years now. Not since Draco left.

It's funny really. No one ever really understood him. They all see him as this arrogant bastard who doesn't care about anything or anyone except himself. Which is so far from the truth that I could laugh.

It's common rumor that he's the way he is because Lucius tortures him. It's common rumor that he's being trained to be a Death Eater. Only one is true, and it's not exactly voluntary. Like I said, he is _not_ the person everyone thinks he is.

I bet you're all thinking 'Well what do _you_ know?' More than _you_, that's for sure. For one thing, I grew up with Draco. I knew him since he was little. And believe me, he was- _is_ not the prick everyone thinks he is. He's just been through a lot. Technically torture, I suppose. Not really. But from what I know of Draco… he's the most understanding and charming person I know. He's the way he is because of… influences. And an incident. I'm sworn to secrecy, and I have no intention of breaking his trust.

Sometimes it seems like I'm the only one who knows how he's like inside. It just pisses me off so much when other people can't see it. Draco is… subtle. Not like those stupid Gryffindors, running around and hugging each other like mad lovers. The occasional word, a slight touch… it all has meaning.

I miss Draco. I've been writing so much, and he hasn't replied at all. I really do hope he's alright there in Durmstrang. It tends to get colder there this time of year…

The werewolf's eyes widened, and as Harry watched, its eyes turned from liquid silver to chill ice blue. It lifted its head in shock, just as Harry let go of his grip on its mouth. Then it started to change, the transformation so rapid it only took four seconds. Wild, dirt brown fur sucked back into pale skin, ears shrank back into a rounded skull as the body minimized to the one of an eight-year-old. The tail shriveled back, paws lengthening and splitting into hands, fingers, feet and toes, until Harry found himself staring into a pair of wide, terrified sky blue eyes.

But the transformation didn't stop there.

Draco's eyes flashed silver again, and his body started to grow out, the bones crunching sickeningly as limbs extended outwards. Streaks of light platinum blonde shot out amongst his spiky mass of mouse-brown hair, lengthening and softening. Draco screamed in pain, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

The thought of kicking him off and running away fluttered vaguely in Harry's mind, but he watched in a mixture of slightly sickened fascination and idiotic Gryffindor-ish curiosity as arms and legs grew, losing their rounded, chubby childish shape and turning muscular, the skin turning just a slight shade darker. Harry' forced his eyes to move up from Draco's chest to his face, just to catch the last change; the blonde's eyes making a subtle change from bright, alert ice-blue to slightly clouded and hazy, with small, almost unnoticeable silver flecks, reminder of his lycanthropy, something Harry had never really noticed before. With one final snap the transformation was complete. Silver-flecked ice-blue eyes met with a somewhat bewildered emerald as the eighteen-year-old Draco Malfoy bent over Harry in the same position he had been in his werewolf state, knees and palms supporting him, and gave him the most surprised look the Gryffindor had ever seen in his life.

And that's how Ron and Hermione caught them only moments later.

Ron slammed the door open first. "Harry watch out there's a werewolf on the l-eeeeeaaaaaargh!"

Hermione blinked then turned pink. "Well. I guess you already know"

Harry broke out of his trance. Reflexively, he curled his legs under Draco and kicked him square in the stomach, the same way he had done with the werewolf. To his surprise, Draco was quite a bit lighter than he expected him to be. He flew off the Gryffindor with a yelp, landing hard on the floor.

"This better not be becoming a habit," he muttered, rubbing his back.

"Malfoy?" Harry said in a dazed voice.

"You remember me. Oh joy"

"I'm gonna be sick" Ron declared loudly and ran out of the room. Draco stood up.

"What am I doing here?" he asked.

"You don't know?" Hermione said.

"I'm not bloody all-knowing"

"Considering you were the one who flew into Dumbledore's office through a chimney, turned into a werewolf then attacked me, yes, I rather thought you would know" Harry said.

Draco's face twitched before he turned for the door and left without a word. Hermione looked at Harry, who was staring at the door with a strange mixture of anger and confusion.

"Well, at least you don't have to look after him anymore" Hermione supplied rather unhelpfully.

Draco approached the Slytherin dorms, looking hesitantly at the hanging picture frame.

"Well, are you going to say the password, or not?" it asked irritably, obviously not remembering him.

"Shut up, let me think…"

"What? You don't remember? Huh? You don't remember?" the picture laughed. "And you call yourself a Slytherin?"

Draco lunged forward, bringing his face very close to the one in the portrait. "Listen, I've been away from this school for one and a half years. I was trying to be nice. Now, I don't know the password, but what I do know is you're either going to let me in, or I'm going to have to take you and put you in a furnace"

The picture gulped. "Oh, it's you Mr. Malfoy… I didn't recognize you… long hair and all…"

Draco tossed his head, his shoulder length hair gleaming in the light. "Nice excuse. Now open the door"

The door flew open with such force the ends chipped.

Inside, a few Slytherins looked up in surprise. Draco walked past them, ignoring them. He went straight to the girls' dorms and knocked on a door.

"Hold on" a voice called. Draco waited then knocked again.

"I said hold on!" the voice said more irritably. This time Draco didn't wait. He opened the door and walked straight in. Pansy whirled around angrily.

"Hey, who said I- Draco!"

Draco tilted his head slightly. "Didn't I say I would be back?"

A happy smile blossomed on the girl's face as she stood up and ran to him, giving him a tight hug. Draco stiffened and Pansy soon let go, standing back.

"Right on time too" she joked. Draco's mouth quirked up slightly.

"One and a half years. As promised"

Pansy tiptoed up and touched his hair gently, the ends curling around her fingers. "You've grown," she said.

"Me, or my hair?"

"Both"

Draco touched her cheek softly, hesitantly, almost as if afraid to. "As you've shrunk"

"I did not shrink!" Pansy said indignantly. "All you said was you were going to return in one and a half years… who gave you permission to grow taller?"

"Who gave permission for the flowers to blossom?" Draco countered, a ghost of a smile flickering on his face. Pansy grinned. 

"Ah, but those flowers eventually wither and die"

"But are sweet and beautiful in their youth"

Pansy giggled. "Still playing those games? Flatterer"

She touched his face gently. "These snakes get slyer as the get older"

"And more charming?"

"Dragons get charming. Snakes get sly"

"And I am?"

"Both"

Draco smirked. "Then I'm a dragon. I prefer not to think of myself as a snake, thank you"

"My icy dragon"

"My perfect blossom"

Pansy sighed. This had been what she had been missing. The affectionate wordplay, the exchanging and bantering…

"How did you get here?" she asked. Draco's face immediately lost all emotion.

"Floo powder"

"How's Durmstrang? I was afraid you'd catch a cold, it's freezing over there…"

"Dragons don't freeze"

Pansy could sense that he was trying to change the subject. She wasn't going to allow it. "No, but you could"

Draco was silent. He walked to the window.

"You're lucky. This is the best room in Hogwarts"

Pansy sighed. _All right Draco, I'll let you off. This time._ "Gryffindors get better I reckon"

"Why do you say that?"

"They're higher up there," Pansy pointed to a tower.

"Where they can be attacked by werewolves and freeze in the winter"

"Werewolves?" Pansy laughed. "Why did you suddenly think of that?"

Draco didn't laugh.

Hermione picked up a book, all the pages bent and folded, the cover ripped.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" Harry asked, picking up the bed sheets, torn where the werewolf's claws had dug into it.

"That looks like a really nasty scratch"

Harry touched his cheek tentatively, bringing his fingers away to see them slightly bloodstained. "I'm not complaining"

"You wouldn't even if he had stuck a stake through your heart"

Harry grinned. "I'm not a vampire"

"I know" Hermione looked worriedly at the deep scars on the teen's face. "I really hope it doesn't get infected"

"I'm _fine_, Hermione!"

"Alright, alright…" Hermione said. Inside she was worrying deeply. Blood was caked all over his cheek and chin, and the scar was still red, not healed yet. But she didn't say anything about it. She knew better than to. Harry would just tell her he was fine.

He was just so stubborn at times.

Hermione picked up another book.

"You are going to have to pay so much for new books…" she sighed.

"I know. Bother"

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"What happened?" Hermione repeated. "Why is the room… a wreck?"

"I don't really know… I just finish taking a shower, I come out, and this bloody werewolf jumps me"

"What happened then?"

"We fought" Harry shrugged.

"How did _that_ happen?" Hermione pointed at the wrecked study table, broken and splintered.

"He ran into it"

Hermione tried to suppress a laugh at how absurd that just sounded. "Why didn't you just use your wand?"

Harry frowned. "I don't know… I guess it didn't really occur to me"

Hermione looked around. "Do you have it with you?"

"No"

"Well then… where is it?"

Harry looked at his bedside table. His face twisted into a furious snarl.

Draco walked slowly down the Slytherin corridor leading to the dorms. Hogwarts had hardly changed- it never seemed like it would. He suddenly had a vision of how Hogwarts looked like years back, a portrait hanging right where he was standing. He shook his head with a frown, and the portrait disappeared. Strange… where did that come from? He didn't remember ever seeing that portrait before.

_Overworking imagination_, he thought, and dismissed it immediately. He breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of fresh apples from his damp hair. He had just showered, borrowing Pansy's shampoo.

_I never thought I would think it… but I missed Hogwarts._

He frowned, remembering Durmstrang. For some reason, he thought there was something he had to remember but for some reason his mind was blank…

"Malfoy!"

Harry suddenly stormed up and slammed Draco to the wall, pinning him by his shoulders.

"Where the hell is my wand?" he demanded. Draco looked at him.

"Rather close, aren't you Potter? My, I didn't know you missed me that much"

"Where is my wand?" Harry repeated, yelling.

"And messy. Don't you Gryffindors shower?"

"Where is it?" he shouted.

"Oh calm down. How the bloody fuck should I know? It's not like I frequently waltz into Gryffindor towers and steal wands. I might catch some disease"

"Where. Did. You. Put. It"

"I didn't _do_ anything with it!" Draco yelled exasperatedly.

"It couldn't be anyone else. You must have done something, when I was playing Quidditch. Tell me. _Now_"

The memory of him jamming something into a wooden chest suddenly came to Draco.

"Let go of me Potter," he said in a deadly calm voice.

"Not until you tell me what you did with my wand"

Draco suddenly brought his fist up, fast as lightning, connecting it with Harry's jaw. Harry stumbled backward, letting go of Draco.

"Bloody stubborn. Heh, never thought _I'd_ be the one calling you that," he said before turning and walking off. The Gryffindor got back up and went after Draco, grabbing him by the shoulder and whirling the surprised Slytherin around.

"Why did you even come back here?" Harry asked. "Why couldn't you just have stayed at Durmstrang?"

"Oh, so now you _don't_ want to see me? Potter, I'm hurt"

"Why did you have to come back?" Harry asked, his tone of voice lower. Draco's face was carefully blank, but Harry could see his eyes soften. Draco had never really been that good at concealing his emotions; they showed too strongly in those cold blue orbs.

"To see you"

Harry punched the blonde in the face and Draco fell straight to the floor.

"Lying bastard!" Harry spat. Draco's face clouded with anger.

"How dare you call me that," he said. "How dare you"

"Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"I've done nothing but think of you. Did you know that? _Nothing_ but think of you, and you accuse me of being a _liar_?"

"Sure, that's what you did, and that's why I broke your arm when you left"

"I was telling you the _truth_!"

"Liar"

"I would never lie to you Harry" Draco said, his voice softening.

"Don't give me that crap!"

"I-" Draco tried to think. Why? Why had he left Hogwarts, in such a hurry? He moaned. His head was hurting. Try as he might, he couldn't remember it. It was like someone had erased that part of his mind, leaving it completely blank.

"You what, Malfoy?" Harry challenged.

"Draco?"

Pansy turned the corner. "I thought I heard- what the hell are _you _doing here?"

She ran to Draco, who was sitting on the floor holding his head. "Are you alright?"

She saw the bruise starting to form on his cheek. "What the hell did you do to him?" she demanded. Harry's face darkened and he turned and walked away without a sound. Out of his peripheral vision he could see Pansy kneeling on the floor and touching Draco's face gently, saying, "Are you alright Draco? Do you need to see Pomfrey?"

It was only an hour later that the Gryffindor remembered that he hadn't gotten his wand back yet.


	6. Kiss

A/N: I am sorry. Living in Hong Kong has gotten to me. If I swap from American-English to British-English, please don't kill me. Be happy I don't write in Chinglish.

Yes I am trying for a new look for Draco. I'm sick of all that stuff about his hair being 'loose', while still at the same length. Let it be loose with a slight difference.

To Tsuyuno: I'm sorry; I know Harry beats Draco up. A lot. He's supposed to be violent and uh… impulsive? Not quite sure if that's the word I'm going for. Explosive temper. I know it sucks, just bear with it for a while more. I didn't make any Draco-beating in this chapter, so… yeah. =)

To Kitori: Thanks for the review on Pansy ^^ I'm sick of reading all those stories where she's portrayed as some mini-ogre (I don't have a problem with them, I just want a change). Regarding them telling the teachers… erm, just assume that the teachers know, please? 'Cuz I don't want to have to waste time writing about it. Assume that Hermione went and told the teachers already. I realize I'm being a lazy pig. Sorry. ^^;;

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed! I do read the reviews; I just respond to the ones that I feel need explaining. I know this is has a somewhat confusing plot. Many sorries again.

Disclaimers are annoying. Everyone belongs to Ms. Rowling. Hopefully she won't send her rampaging lawyers to impale me on pitchforks if I don't write disclaimers for later chapters.

After shooing Pansy away and insisting that he wasn't going to die if he didn't put an icepack on the bruise, Draco sat in the Slytherin common room, thinking.

Why couldn't he remember why he had left Hogwarts? It had only been one and half years ago after all, and if there one thing Draco prided himself on, it was having a perfect memory. He could remember meeting Harry on the train when he had been eleven… why not something when he had been sixteen?

He could remember what had happened earlier that day. The Quidditch match. The moon. He could remember his child-self prying into Harry's room, ramming the wand into the lock of the chest, taking out something and putting it in his pocket…

He frowned. He had taken everything out of his pockets when he had taken a shower, and the note hadn't been there. So where was it?

Draco sighed. Oh well. What did it matter? Probably was some pathetic little note that Mudblood had written him.

He frowned. Why did it feel like a major part of his brain had been erased? Like there was something he had to do… get away, for ask for help, or _something_… but he just couldn't remember it.

What was stranger was that he didn't remember telling Pansy that he would return, but he knew he had. He knew it, but didn't remember it. Like it had been erased as well.

He didn't know what to do. Here he was at Hogwarts, without a clue why, when he knew he _should_ know what to do, but he didn't. He remembered earlier… just yesterday in fact. He remembered his talk with Hermione, sitting beside the Great Lake. He remembered his talk with Ron, the playful manner in which the two had talked, Draco taking Ron's words and repeating them, twisting them slightly to turn them into a question. It had been a game he had enjoyed playing with Pansy as a child; the two would normally end up giggling on the floor. The aim of the game was to keep talking –meaning, not leaving a pause after the other had spoken and speaking immediately- without stammering, stopping, repeating the other person entirely, and while they were at it, confuse the other person by turning everything they said into another question. He remembered how he had always won, and how in return Pansy had once clobbered him with a pillow after shrieking that it was unfair and how he had been born with the gift of a smooth tongue and naturally quick mind. He had laughed and replied that if he had a smooth tongue, did it mean that it was slippery, and then how did it stay in his mouth?

Draco's mouth tugged at the corners. The rumors he had heard circulating about him were laughable- his childhood had been fun all the way. Lucius had never tortured him in any way, not with the curses, not even with the cane. He had never been beaten, hit or abused by Lucius. Lucius was a naturally cold man, and the fact that he was also a Death Eater still didn't make him a cruel man to Draco.

His childhood… fun, but short. Draco still remembered that day; the day that his childhood had ended… he had never been the same person since. He was thankful for Pansy, for her sticking with him through everything. When the 'incident' had been over, he had lost all his friends immediately because of the way he had become. But Pansy had eventually come back to him, and stuck with him through everything, and in time he had come to trust her and depend on her again, as he had done before.

He didn't blame Lucius for the incident… not fully. It had been partly his fault, but how did he know? He wouldn't have known… after all, Voldemort was a very tricky person.

Draco shook his head. _No, don't think of him. Don't think of that bastard._

Lucius had been very sorry, after all. It was apparent, the way he spoiled the blonde. Anything he wanted he got, and anything he didn't like, Lucius got rid of. There had only been one thing he didn't like that Lucius forced him to do, and that was become a Death Eater. It wasn't that it was difficult; spell casting and potions had always been one of his best subjects when he had been young. It was what the job _required_ that he objected to.

Killing people. Making them suffer.

Basically, that was it. It sickened him slightly that it was what Lucius did every day, but it was something that he accepted. What was the worst, the thing that he couldn't stand the most was that he had to work for Voldemort. He had no respect for the man, and resented that Lucius was a high-ranking Death Eater, as it meant that Voldemort would pay visits to their family. Draco could remember the first visit. Lucius had brought Draco out to see a 'special visitor'. He had gone out, seen Voldemort and had felt the most powerful feeling of fear he had ever felt in his life. He hated it. He didn't like feeling like that, so scared, so vulnerable.

That had been just before the incident.

He had heard of the rumors that he was a Voldemort worshipper; that his whole family was Voldemort worshippers. Lucius and Narcissa may have worshipped Voldemort, but Draco did not. He hated him, hated him to the core and especially hated him for what he had made him become.

The door creaked open and Draco's head jerked up. Goyle walked in and jumped, startled by the blonde lounging on the couch.

"Is somewhere there?" he said, his voice slightly slurred. Draco frowned. Goyle hadn't seen him clearly.

"What time is it, Goyle?" he asked.

"Time?" Goyle looked confused. Draco sighed.

"Look outside. It's almost daybreak. What have you been doing all night; drinking? I would have thought better of you"

"Why aren't _you_ asleep?"

"Are you telling _me_ what to do, Goyle?" Draco said, his voice very pointed and clear. Goyle blinked and came closer.

"Oh! Draco!" he said, finally recognizing the blonde. Draco glanced at the clock on the wall.

"It's almost five AM. Where've you been?"

"Gee Draco, you sound like my mom" Goyle said, grinning stupidly.

"I'll have to be your mom if you stay up all night drinking"

"Not all night" Goyle mumbled.

Draco's mouth twitched into a momentary smile. "Go to bed"

Goyle walked heavily to his room, his line of movement swaying a bit from the alcohol and tiredness. He turned around to Draco. "We missed you," he said. Draco couldn't help the smile breaking out on his face this time, and only just managed to turn it into a smirk.

"Go to sleep, Goyle" he said. Goyle trudged into the room, slamming the door behind him. Draco took this moment to let the smile erupt broadly on his face. As imbecilic as Crabbe and Goyle were, he had to admit- he had missed them too.

The next morning, Draco woke up to hundreds of staring eyes.

"What?" he asked irritably and they scattered. Draco sat up and stretched, yawning, and winced as a pain from his cheek reminded him of the bruise from yesterday. He went to Pansy's room and knocked.

"Leemealone" the girl mumbled loudly.

"It's Draco. Can I come in?"

"Warrever"

Draco walked in. "I need to use your toothpaste"

"Mmph" Pansy turned over in bed, facing the wall. Draco went to her bathroom where on the counter lay his toothbrush; an extra one that Pansy had never used. Draco had smirked at that. Trust Pansy to keep all sorts of extras. Draco washed up and showered before drying his damp hair off with a towel and giving it a quick brush, the ends flicking up. Draco curled some of his hair around his finger at the ends. He briefly contemplated cutting it short.

_Why bother? I like it this way_

With that, Draco tied up his hair, leaving a few strands loose over his forehead and near his ears and walked out. By this time Pansy was up, playing idly with a pendant hanging from her neck. She took one glance up and shrieked.

"Your _hair_!"

"What about it?"

"It's…" Pansy struggled. "Long!"

"It's shoulder-length" Draco was amused.

"Well, that simply won't do… it looks sloppy"

"It does?"

Pansy went to the toilet. "Let me wash up first, then I'll cut it for you"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you can?"

"Of course!"

"After all, I still remember the butcher job you did on my hair the last time…"

"Butcher! I was eight!" Pansy said indignantly, brushing her teeth at the same time. 

"I ended up with a Mohawk"

"Entirely not my fault. The scissors slipped"

Draco shrugged as he sat down on Pansy's unmade bed. "Alright then…"

"Morning Harry! Had a good night's sleep?" Ron asked cheerily. Harry sat up in bed, his hair more ruffled than normal and yawned loudly.

"Brilliant" he said in a monotone. In fact, he hadn't slept a wink all night. Ron could see this.

"It's a Saturday… want me to go?" he asked.

"No, it's okay, I need to get up anyway"

Ron grinned. "Liar. Bet you didn't sleep at all last night"

"Oh, maybe five minutes or so…"

Ron mimed immense horror. "Harry Potter, not sleeping? Acute case of sudden insomnia? Or was he up all night thinking of his girlfriend, Hermione Granger? Rita Skeeter reports!"

Harry hurled his pillow at the redhead. "Don't remind me of that woman… her face alone is enough to give me nightmares. And besides, Hermione's not my girlfriend"

"Or so he claims!" Ron carried on. He brought his face close to Harry's. "Is it true then? Were you up all night, thinking of Ms. Granger? Or was it insomnia?"

Harry responded by pushing Ron away with a "bugger off!"

"Or _extreme_ halitosis!" Ron gagged. "Getting dark… can't see… life passing before eyes…"

"I swear Ron, you're getting worse than Fred and George"

"Am not" Ron got up, grinning. "And really Harry, your morning breath is enough to make a Hippogriff keel over"

"Yours would probably kill a dragon straight off"

"Hey, I resent that!"

"Don't. It's a terrific form of self-defense, morning breath is"

"And you sound worse than Malfoy. When did _you_ become so cynical?"

The grin on Harry's face was wiped off instantly. He went to the toilet and closed the door without a sound. When he came back out Ron was sitting on the bed cross-legged.

"Why do you hate him so much anyway?" he asked, as if there hadn't been a pause in their conversation at all. Harry didn't reply, and then when he saw that Ron was still waiting expectantly, sighed.

"I'm sure you love him ever so"

"Ugh! Harry, don't make me vomit all over your bed. And you're hedging" Ron said.

"Why are you even asking me? What are you, some sort of Malfoy worshipper now?"

"No!" Ron said indignantly. "I just wanted to know. I mean, when he was little. He's a buggering arse now, but he was pretty sweet as a kid, don't you think?"

"Annoying"

Ron looked thoughtful. "Well, yes, that too. But you were pretty mean to him, don't you think? He didn't even know what he had done"

"He was still Malfoy"

"But you didn't even want to admit that he was Malfoy!" Ron said. "So why couldn't you have been… nicer to him?"

"Nice? What are you, some sort of priest?"

"No! I just wanted to know-"

"Sticking up for Malfoy now? And I thought you hated him too?"

"Harry, would you let me finish? I _don't_ like Malfoy, alright?" Ron said in exasperation. "I just wanted to know why you were so harsh to him when he was little! He hadn't done anything- he wasn't even aware that he had done anything wrong! He was just an innocent little kid!"

"Harsh?" Harry said. "You call that harsh? Dammit Ron, the bastard's been torturing us for years and you call how I treated him harsh?"

"He was just a kid!"

Harry stared at Ron. "What's wrong with you Ron. I thought you were on my side"

"What's wrong with _you_?" Ron shouted. "Bloody hell, I just asked you a simple question! And who said anything about taking sides? I just wanted to know why you _insisted_ on treating him like that when he was just a small child and hadn't done _anything_ wrong to hurt us in the _slightest_!"

Harry's features darkened as he frowned. He walked straight for the door.

"You've changed Ron. The fact that he was a child wouldn't have mattered in the least before" he said, before walking out and slamming the door. The redhead stared with quivering anger at the door before sighing, slapping his forehead and lying back on Harry's unmade bed.

"Fabulous, Weasley. That went brilliantly," he said.

"And… voila!" Pansy held up a hand mirror. Draco frowned.

"What's the difference?"

"You don't see the difference?"

"No, I don't"

"Everything about an inch shorter, for one"

"Oh" Draco looked at himself in the mirror. "It's alright"

"You're welcome" Pansy said. Draco ran a hand through his silky hair and expertly tied it up, then looked at himself again the mirror.

"I really don't see the difference"

"Men. They don't appreciate true art" Pansy huffed.

Draco's mouth quirked up. "Women. Always in denial"

"Denial in a man's eyes?"

"In a man's eyes, and in a woman's?"

"Women are _perfect_" Pansy said factually.

"Perfect in a woman's eyes?"

"You mean they're not in a man's?"

"In a man's, you mean a Casanova, a drunkard or a man who has found his one true love?"

Pansy frowned. "Does it matter?"

Draco shrugged. "Does it?"

"I prefer to be seen as perfect to any man, thank you very much"

"Even to a drunkard?"

"Depends on the drunkard"

"On how drunk he is, or what type of man he is?"

"On- how did we even get onto this subject?"

Draco smirked and mimicked Pansy's voice. "Does it matter?"

"You- oooooh. Impossible" she said, shaking her head. She went to the door. "I'm going to the Great Hall for breakfast… coming?"

Draco paused. "You go ahead first"

"Alright then" Pansy said and left. Draco stared at the closed door for a few minutes before getting up and following after her.

Harry stormed down the corridors. 

_How dare he?_ Harry thought. _How can he even say that I was harsh to him? He doesn't even know what I've been through!_

He remembered Draco, the other day. Him looking at the Gryffindor with such soft eyes, saying those words… "I would never lie to you Harry"

_Liar_, Harry thought. _Such a fucking liar._

He turned the corner sharply, bumping straight into someone. He staggered back then glared at the person with enough fury to burn a village to the ground. "You!"

Draco was slammed against the wall, his feet dangling a few inches off the floor.

"You never told me where my wand was," Harry said.

"Wand?"

"Don't play games with me Malfoy!"

"We're back to that old unfamiliarity again then, are we?"

"Where is it?" Harry yelled. Draco smirked.

"So much fuss over a stupid piece of wood… don't you have the money to go buy another one? Or has that little beggar used it all?"

"Don't talk about Ron that way you bastard"

"Did I say anything about that Weasel?" Draco said in mock surprise. "How strange that you go straight from beggar to Weasley… so I'm right, aren't I?"

Harry realized he had been tricked. His face darkened. Draco looked at him and reached down, touching his cheek gently.

"You're angry," he stated softly. Harry flinched involuntarily and scowled, but he couldn't answer as he looked into those piercing, magnetic ice-blue eyes. Almost hesitantly, Draco moved his hand up to twirl his fingers delicately in Harry's raven-black hair. He touched a curl, smiling slightly as it sprung around his finger. Harry couldn't help it.

He shivered.

"I've missed you so much… and you go and grow on me," the blonde said softly. "Here I was thinking I finally wasn't going to be a midget"

He traced a finger lightly down the Gryffindor's face; touching so lightly that it was like skittering spiders. He brought his finger down to Harry's mouth, pressing lightly on the Gryffindor's warm lips.

"Velvet emerald" he murmured. "Do you remember?"

Harry remembered.

_Oh god, what am I doing?_ Harry thought suddenly, but he just couldn't tear his eyes away from that mesmerizing blue. It was as if Draco had cast a spell on him, and it would rip his heart out to break it.

It was then that one of the weirdest thoughts ever came to him. _Long blonde hair is nice_.

Draco brought his hand back slowly and touched his own soft mouth, as if he had transferred something from the Gryffindor back to himself.

"Silken sapphire" the words burst from Harry's mouth in the form of a whisper. Draco landed lightly on the balls of his feet as Harry's grip weakened and he was released to the floor. He smiled.

"You _do_ remember," he said. He stepped forward, very slowly; placing a cool hand around Harry's neck, thumb in front of the Gryffindor's ear. Then he tilted his head upwards, using his hand to move Harry's head down towards him. He tiptoed up slightly, and slowly, very slowly…

Their lips touched.

Ron walked into the Great Hall and sat down next to Hermione, who was chewing her toast and happily arguing (if such a thing was possible) with Lavender.

"No way!" Hermione said indignantly. "It is _definitely_ more useful than Divination"

Lavender shuddered. "But Snape is so _creepy_" she said in a whispered undertone, as if afraid Snape would suddenly pop up from behind her.

"True, but- oh hi R…on is everything alright?" Hermione asked concernedly, noting the expression on the redhead's face.

"Fan-bloody-tastic" Ron said, in a tone of voice that stated just the opposite. Hermione raised both eyebrows at him, her gesture for 'Harry?'

Ron rolled his eyes; 'Who else?'

"So are you two going out or something?" Lavender asked, amused.

"What?"

"You two have your own sign language… that's so sweet!" Lavender giggled.

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"Uh… right, about Snape?" Ron asked.

Harry moaned softly. Had he ever had a kiss this good? Not for years, from what he could remember. It was gentle, soft and sweet as chocolate, sending excited tingles up his spine, causing him to arch his body against Draco's, the shorter boy tiptoeing higher to reach. Draco parted his lips slowly and delicately licked Harry's top lip, running his tongue along the whole part and retracting, as if he were tasting Harry's peppery mint toothpaste and trying to get it into his mouth. Harry's eyes closed seemingly of its own accord as Draco slid both his arms around the brunette's head as he deepened the kiss, making it more passionate.

It was the explosive sensation of the Slytherin's tongue sliding in between his lips to his mouth that snapped Harry back to his senses. His eyes jolted open and, pulling back sharply, he pulled back his fist let it fly at Draco's face. For reasons unknown, his fist splayed out into spread fingers, changing direction so that instead of giving Draco another bruise, shoved him hard in the chest. Draco, being on tiptoe, easily lost balance and fell over.

"What did you think you were doing?" Harry demanded. Draco stared at Harry, his face carefully blank but his eyes full of hurt, which quickly turned to fiery coldness.

"You're asking me? I thought you were enjoying it"

"Well, you were wrong" Harry said. Draco looked at Harry's emerald orbs, his own ice blue piercing, searching.

"Yes" he said getting up, not breaking eye contact. "I suppose I was"

With that, he turned and walked to the Great Hall leaving Harry in the corridor alone.

Harry skipped all the classes that day. He shut himself up in his room, with a locking spell so complex that as soon as Hermione started to tackle it, immediately gave up, knowing Harry wanted his privacy. Ron had tried banging on his door and hollering, but Harry hadn't responded and so the redhead had given up, pissed off and muttering something about how immature some people could get and how Harry seemed to think he could just throw away his friends like that. The dark-haired teenager sat in his room all day, lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, mixed emotions swirling like angry, battling souls inside him. How should he feel? Angry? Happy? Upset? Did he want anything to do with Draco anymore? Weren't they over?

Throughout the day, different people came to knock on his door to tell him it was time for lessons, time for meals…

Finally, late at night, he got up and walked to his desk, mostly fixed up by a quick magic spell by Hermione. He took a piece of parchment, a quill, an inkwell, and started to write.

_Dear Harry, _he wrote. _I don't know why I'm writing to you. I just feel that I have to write to someone. I…_ he paused. _I don't know what to do. How do I react? Dra_ -he stopped and crossed out the word- _Malfoy's returned to Hogwarts. He seems to be under the impression that everything can return to normal. I don't want to let him… do I? Should I? After all he's done to me…_

_I suppose I should ask the question 'do I love him' first. It's a clichéd saying; that 'love conquers all'. Maybe it does. I don't know. If it does… I should forgive him, right? But I don't want to… yes I do. Today… I don't know._

_I guess love is like a drug. It puts you on this incredible high… then everything crashes down. It's dangerous, it's painful, and yet there are all these stories about how people get through it all, these couples, their love getting them through everything. But those are just fairytales, aren't they? They're just not real. Are they?_

_I suppose the real question is does he love me, or is he just playing one of his games. I want to believe him so much… but I don't trust him. He's such a damned good liar I can't tell the difference between truth and lie anymore. He could probably tell me my head was on fire, and I –being the gullible moron that I am- would believe him._

Harry set the quill down and bit his lip. He had never done this before; let out as much about him on paper. Rita Skeeter had shown him on paper yes, but those had been horrible untruths. Not like this. This… it came from the heart. 

It had also been the first time he had ever written to himself.

He picked up the quill again hesitantly and dipped it into the inkwell, accidentally splashing a few droplets onto the table. He continued, skipping to a new line.

_The only thing I can do I guess is to wait it out._

He paused then scribbled, _Me_ on the bottom, underlining it sharply. Satisfied, he returned to bed. 


	7. Is that what you want?

A/N: The first paragraph was from the other day. The day when Harry wrote the letter. Paragraphs onward are of the next day. Just to avoid confusion.

Arghhhhh… mistakes galore in the last chapter. Guh. Sorry.

"You're causing quite a sensation around here," Pansy commented, dabbing at his cut with a moist tissue.

"Brilliant. My lifelong dream" Draco winced and hissed. "Bloody hell, Pansy!"

"Don't get mad at _me_, I'm the one who saved you!"

Draco moaned. "Saved by a girl."

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "Don't you dare tell me you're _sexist_ now. I have no objection to hitting someone injured."

"I hope you don't mind if I scream like a girl."

"Another sexist comment?"

"Only if you hit me"

Pansy smiled. She looked at the scar. "It's not too bad. What did you do anyway?"

"Nothing" Draco said. 

"Weasley beat you up pretty bad for 'nothing'."

"He thought I cursed Potter," Draco said, his voice a little angry. "Apparently he's been hiding in his room all day"

"Did you?"

"Does it matter?"

Pansy shrugged. "Women's curiosity. You can tell me."

"I didn't. I thought that was why you clobbered Weasel."

"Actually, it was because I thought it would be an improvement to his face. Also the fact he was beating the crap out of you"

"Thank you so very much for that, Parkinson. My masculine ego has just been deflated to the size of an atom."

Pansy kissed the top of Draco's head affectionately. "Anytime, Malfoy"

Draco got up and looked at himself in the mirror. Calmly, he waved his hand in front of his face once, from chin forehead to chin. All scars disappeared.

"Where did you learn that?" Pansy asked, impressed. The blonde suddenly looked very startled.

"I don't know," he said, staring at his repaired image in the mirror. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Fine then, _don't_ tell me. Males and their stupid pride… can't stand the thought of a woman being better…"

Draco turned to face Pansy, and a shiver rose up her spine at the look of terror in his eyes, even though his face was calm.

"No Pansy… I really don't know…" he said, his voice trembling a little. Pansy smiled uncertainly at him.

"Don't worry about it… it's probably nothing"

Draco said nothing. He looked at himself in the mirror again.

_Why can't I remember…_ he wondered.

When Harry opened his door he was greeted by the sight of his redheaded best friend, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, bruised all over his face.

"About time," he commented sardonically.

Harry ignored that and stared at his face. "What happened?"

Ron scowled. "That bloody bitch of a Slytherin attacked me"

Harry looked blank.  "Who?"

Ron's scowl grew deeper. "Parkinson."

Harry stared. His mouth twitched. Then he burst out into mad peals of laughter.

"It's not funny," Ron said grumpily.

"I'm sorry, I'm s- HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Ron's mouth twitched and he allowed himself a smile. "Alright, maybe it is."

"What were you two fighting about anyway?" Harry asked in between laughs. Ron paused for a while.

"Actually, she only hit me after she found me and Malfoy."

Harry's laughter abruptly stopped and Ron mentally kicked himself. "What were you two doing?" the brunette asked. Ron sighed.

"Fighting."

"Why?" Harry's question sounded more like a demand.

"Because the slimy little ferret insisted he hadn't cursed you." Ron looked stubborn.

"He didn't, Ron."

"I know."

Harry frowned. "So then, why…?"

"I was angry, alright?" Ron snapped, his temper suddenly flaring. "You locked yourself up in your room all day and you didn't come out… what was I supposed to think? And all this happened just after he came back… I wish he had stayed an eight-year-old."

"You beat him up because you were angry?"

Ron stayed moodily silent.

"At me?" Harry added, finishing the sentence. Ron looked away then sighed and faced his friend, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Look, Harry, I'm your friend, alright? When you do things like that… I just get mad."

"Why?" Harry frowned.

"Because… I hate feeling useless. You do so much for everyone, and then you just go and lock yourself up in your room like… like no one _cares_ for you or something, and we try and help but you just ignore us…" Ron looked helpless, as if afraid Harry would lash out at him. Harry thought fleetingly about how funny the situation must look to a bystander; the taller redhead with a hand on the shorter brunette's shoulder in the ultimate bullying pose, and yet who was intimidating who?

To Ron's relief, Harry smiled. "Okay Ron. Point taken. I'm sorry… I guess I just wanted some time alone. I shouldn't have ignored you like that."

Ron's face broke out into a smile. "It's okay. Just glad you're alright now… right?"

"Right," Harry said firmly. The redhead visibly relaxed.

"So… tell me, how did you let a _girl_ beat you up again?" Harry teased. Ron groaned.

"Please Harry, let's not talk about it…" he said as he led his friend to breakfast.

Draco was halted from entering the Great Hall by Dumbledore. "Mr. Malfoy, please come with me," he said. Draco frowned.

"What for?" Pansy asked.

"I just need to ask a few questions Ms. Parkinson… I assure you, it's nothing to worry about," Dumbledore said. The girl looked at Draco, who nodded slightly. Pansy twitched her right eyebrow, her sign for 'tell me about it later' and left. Draco followed Dumbledore, passing the two Gryffindors in the corridor. He glanced at Harry, his eyes moving to the redhead who gave him a nasty glare, and he tossed his head, looking pointedly in the other direction.

"Fag," he heard Ron mutter, but he didn't allow it to get to him. He followed the elderly headmaster to his room, where he stopped just inside and looked around.

_Damn it's big_, he thought, marveling at the hugeness of the room. He didn't remember having been in there before.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Draco walked to Dumbledore's desk, noticing the fiery bird perched protectively by. He breathed in sharply. _A phoenix!_

"I can see you like my phoenix, Fawkes," Dumbledore said amusedly. Fawkes preened in response.

"What did you call me here for?" Draco asked, getting straight to the point. Dumbledore paused.

"As you know, you came through this chimney," he gestured to the chimney, "a few days ago. Now, do you remember anything of it?"

Draco frowned and Dumbledore elaborated. "Do you remember why you came through this chimney?"

Draco's frown deepened and he finally looked up and said, "No."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "Do you remember leaving this school, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco's brow creased as he tried his hardest to remember. "No," he finally said. Dumbledore frowned.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked. Dumbledore took his time in replying.

"Which school did you go to after you left Hogwarts?" he asked slowly.

"Durmstrang," Draco said. He looked at the Headmaster. "Didn't my father tell you?"

"Yes he did… except, I've been checking with the Headmaster of Durmstrang-"

"Why?" Draco asked immediately.

"Just that since you've returned to your normal state, I wanted to get you back."

"Why?"

"Don't you want to return?"

Draco blinked. His head suddenly hurt. He wanted to return… didn't he? Why was he getting a bad feeling about it…

"What does it matter to you!" he suddenly spat, then looked horrified. He hadn't meant to say that!

Dumbledore looked somewhat startled. 

"I… I'm sorry, I didn't…"

"It matters, because when I contacted the Headmaster of Durmstrang, he insisted that you had never been to his school."

Draco's head snapped up.

"So I contacted Beauxbatons," Dumbledore continued. "And they said that you had never been _there_, either."

"But…" Draco was confused. "I _went_ to Durmstrang! I know I did!"

Dumbledore calmly walked to the fireplace. "Then talk to him."

Draco walked shakily to the fireplace. A man's head floated there, like a ghost flickering the flames. The man took in a sharp breath.

"Do you recognize him?" Dumbledore asked.

"No," the man replied. "No… not at all."

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, def… definitely."

"And you, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco stared into the fire at the face. He knew him… he did… who was he… he looked closer and suddenly realized the man was shaking with fear. Fear of who? Of him?

_Stupid bastard._

The image of the man, lying dead in a pool of blood suddenly flashed through his mind.

Draco jolted. 

"Do you remember him?" Dumbledore asked, his voice gentle. Draco shook his head slightly and stared, desperately searching his mind… who the hell _was_ he?

"N… no," he finally said. The man looked somewhat relieved.

"Sorry to have bothered you," Dumbledore apologized.

"It's alright. Goodbye," the man said quickly, and his face disappeared. Dumbledore sighed and returned to his desk.

"I… I'm _sure_ I went to Durmstrang," Draco said. "Maybe they changed Headmasters?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "He's been Headmaster since Karkaroff left." He suddenly looked very tired, every year of his age shown clearly by the lines in his face.

"Why does it matter?" Draco asked. Dumbledore looked at the blonde, his face deadly serious.

"Surely you realize I am not permitted to keep you here at Hogwarts without consent from your parents, and without proof of attendance from your previous school," he said.

"But…" Draco frowned slightly. "Haven't you owled Lucius? He'll sort everything out…"

Dumbledore took off his glasses. "I thought you knew already," he said in a somewhat sad voice. He let out a breath and walked to the window. Draco bit back his impulse to scream "Well? Tell me!"

"Lucius Malfoy…" Dumbledore said. "Has… disappeared. He's got a price on his head, allegedly for helping Voldemort."

Draco froze. Hadn't Voldemort been killed, right at the beginning of the fifth year?

His frown deepened. His head was starting to hurt again… as if something had been hastily re-wired…

"Rumor has it that he's taken a new host body," Dumbledore said, and this time he looked straight at Draco.

"What was it he wanted?" Pansy asked as soon as she spied the blonde walking into the Great Hall. Draco sat down to breakfast, sitting next to the girl. Most of the Great Hall was empty; only a few of the slower eaters were left behind.

"Nothing," Draco said, reaching for the box of cereal. Truth be told, he was still a little shaken. _Lucius missing… Voldemort returning…_

"Don't you dare lie to _me_ Draco Malfoy," Pansy said. Draco calmed his thoughts.

_Don't think about it._

"Really Pansy, it was nothing… just something about Durmstrang," he said. _At least it's not a full lie._

"What about it?" Pansy was all ears.

"Just… confirming something."

"Confirming what?"

Draco stirred his cereal in his milk. "I don't want to talk about it."

Pansy knew not to continue when Draco used _that_ tone of voice. She sighed.

"Potter seemed rather strange this morning," she commented. Draco slowly crunched a small spoonful of cereal then pushed the bowl away, wiping his mouth clean. "Strange how?" he asked.

"Is that _all_ you're going to eat?" Pansy asked disapprovingly, then saw Draco's face and continued airily. "He kept looking this way, that's all. Nosy Gryffindorks… you know the lot, always trying to pry into other people's- Draco, where are you going?"

Draco hesitated. "Somewhere," he said then walked away. Pansy watched him leave then took in a breath, hissing.

"Do you think you could be any _more_ vague…" she muttered.

As he approached the Gryffindor towers he paused, touching the door.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked, seeing the boy. She stared. "You know, I could swear I remember you from somewhere."

Draco hesitated then inclined his head slightly. "I was here before."

_As a werewolf._

The Fat Lady frowned then laughed. "Oh yes, I remember you now!" she narrowed her eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be in _Slytherin_?"

Draco didn't answer, his eyes traveling up the door. He placed his palm flat on the smooth wood.

"Go on now, you're in the wrong place. Go, before I call someone," the Fat Lady said. Draco ignored her. He closed his eyes. He had heard Neville say it, when he had come in before… what was it?

"Did you hear me?" the Fat Lady was getting annoyed now. "I said l-"

"Wormwood," Draco said, at the same time wondering why on the earth the Gryffindors chose such an absurd password. Slytherin passwords were generally something to do with power.

The Fat Lady looked startled.

"Wh… how did you…" she narrowed her eyes again. "Have you been sneaking around here?"

"I said the password. Open the door," Draco said.

"I don't think I can open it for anyone that's not from Gr-"

"I said the password. You know me; I'm not a troll. Let me in."

"I don't think the fact that you're not a troll counts…"

"So you would let a troll in and not me?"

"Of course not!"

"So then what _would_ count?" he asked irritably, tempted to just blast the stupid woman and her bloody portrait to splinters.

The Fat Lady considered. "I suppose you'd have to be a Gryffindor."

Draco fixed his icy eyes on her. "I only just returned to this school. Technically, I'm not in any house."

"And if you tell any of your Slytherin friends about what goes on in this tower?" the Fat Lady squirmed a little.

"Like what? Is it a whoring center?"

"Of course not!" the Fat Lady looked scandalized at both the question and the casual way Draco said it, as if he said the word ten times a day.

"Then it can't be that bad. Let me in."

"Fine," she said. The door swung open somewhat reluctantly. "But I still don't-"

"I said the password, didn't I?" Draco said, as patiently as possible. "And don't worry, I won't kill anyone." He smirked. "Slytherin's honor."

"Oh _that's_ a relief," he heard the Fat Lady say cynically, and his smirk grew into a half-smile, which abruptly left his face as he reached the room.

Harry's room.

He stood outside the door for a moment, listening. There was hardly a sound; just the scratching of a quill on parchment. He reasoned for a second that neither of Potter's friends could have been in there with him, otherwise they'd all be twittering like idiots, then placed his fingertips lightly on the door and pushed.

The brunette looked up, startled, then his face turned into a snarl. "How did you get in here?" he demanded. Draco shrugged.

"I said the password."

"Who told it to you?"

"I just heard it somewhere," Draco said. "I must applaud you Gryffindors though. 'Wormwood' is definitely not a common password."

Harry's mouth twitched, though the rest of his face didn't change. "Hermione chose it."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "You let that Mudblood choose the password?" he said, knowing well the reaction it would get from Harry.

The Gryffindor's face darkened. "Don't you dare call her that."

Draco appeared nonchalant. "Why not? It's fitting."

Harry glared then turned back to his desk. "Whatever, ferret."

"My, getting all immature now are we?" Draco sniffed.

"Getting all touchy now, are we?" Harry said, mimicking Draco. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"You want me to get 'touchy', Potter? My, I didn't know you Gryffindors had it in you."

Harry looked at him and scowled. "I didn't mean it that way."

"You were thinking it."

"What are you, some bloody mind-reader?"

Draco shrugged. "Maybe."

Harry sighed in exasperation. "Malfoy, just leave, alright?"

"Oh, no farewell punch-up this time? I'm hurt."

"I'm _busy_."

Draco walked over to the table. Casually, he made his index and middle finger 'walk' to Harry's inkpot… and spilt it all over his work. Harry leapt up.

"Shit!"

"All crap," Draco said, his voice completely factual.

"Fuck you! Do you have any idea how long I _spent_ on that thing?"

"Spent, or wasted?" Draco said, rolling his eyes. "And it was all a bunch of bull. Honestly Scarhead, do you think Snape cares how long you spend on homework if all you write is trash like that?"

"Oh, so now you're the world's leading genius on Potions?" Harry said, glaring daggers at Draco. Draco picked up the now soggy black parchment by a corner and threw it into a corner.

"For one thing, Mandrake hairs don't go yellow when added to dragon spit, they go green. For another, it's impossible to pick Mandrake hairs as they're so small, which brings me to wonder why you decided to waste a quarter of a page writing about it," he said. "And you don't add sliced Flobberworm to _anything_ unless you _want_ nostrils big enough to vacuum up a _planet_. Bloody hell Potter, don't you learn _anything_ you're taught?"

"I'm not a suck-up like you are," Harry retorted.

"Funny. I would have at least expected _Mudblood_ to have helped you out."

Harry slammed the quill down on the table. "I told you not to call her that!"

"All edgy over your girlfriend now, Scarhead?" Draco said. He smirked as Harry froze. "Pansy was ever so kind as to keep me informed. Nice to know you found a replacement so quickly. And female too. Here I was thinking you were just gay"

"Leave. Now." Harry's hand shook.

"Like I will."

"Dammit Malfoy, what the hell do you want?" Harry shouted. Draco shrugged.

"I just thought you'd want to know where your wand was."

Harry remained silent.

"It's under the bed," Draco said.

"How do you know?" Harry said in an undertone. Draco hesitated.

"I… just know, alright?" he said, not wanting to say what he used it for. There was a silence.

"Fine," Harry said. "Now get out."

"One thing first," Draco said. "Why did you keep looking at the Slytherin table this morning?"

There was another silence. "Who said I was?" said Harry.

"Are you saying you weren't?"

"Of course I wasn't"

"Is that the truth, or what you'd like to believe?" Draco challenged. Harry said nothing.

"Thought so. Fag."

"Look who's calling the kettle black."

"Who said anything about kettles?" Draco said. There was a prolonged silence. Draco, sensing that there was nothing else to say, started to walk to the door. Suddenly he found himself slammed against the wall. He whirled around quickly, just as Harry pressed his lips to the very startled blonde's.

"Is this what you want?" Harry asked, kissing with bone-crushing strength. "Is it?"

Draco reacted with the first thing that came into his mind. He extended his arms to rest on Harry's chest, but the Gryffindor snatched them roughly out of the air, much like he would do to a Snitch.

"Not this time Malfoy," Harry said. He pulled the blonde's hands up, holding them over his shoulders, thereby pulling the Slytherin up to him so their bodies pressed hard against each other, his body touching every bit of Draco's. His mouth left Draco's, planting, kisses down the teen's chin to his neck, where he darted out his tongue and started to lick and nibble down to the blonde's collarbone. Draco protested feebly, turning his head down to block the Gryffindor's mouth.

"I _said_," Harry let go of Draco's wrists to push him hard against the wall. He pressed his lips forcefully against the blonde's neck, biting into the soft, delicate skin. Draco moaned, swaying his body in ecstasy.

"Not… this… time," Harry's mouth traveled back down the Slytherin's shoulder blade, this time not stopping. His hands moved up to rest on Draco's chest, serving to push the blonde back (although it was unnecessary; Draco was giving little resistance). Harry kissed passionately, licking and nibbling every bit of skin that he could. Draco let out a soft gasp as the moistness of the Gryffindor's mouth left his neck. Harry folded his arms and cocked his head somewhat defiantly.

"Was that what you-"

He didn't get to finish. With lightning quick speed Draco grabbed his dark-haired head and pulled it down to his own, delivering a very surprised Harry a soft, gentle kiss, which he deepened.

"Follow the leader," Draco murmured, feeling the other teen tense up, and Harry closed his eyes as the blonde slowly wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders, pulling the taller teen closer to him. He swayed his hips slowly, like a sort of snake charmer moving to an invisible beat.  He smiled as he felt Harry's strong arms slip and clasp around his hips as he tilted his head, expertly using his tongue to coax the Gryffindor's mouth open. His tongue moved in gingerly, and Harry moaned and pulled the blonde impossibly closer as Draco ran his thumb lightly over Harry's jawbone, so light it tickled the skin. Suddenly Draco retracted his tongue and started making a trail of light kisses and bites down Harry's neck. Harry groaned in agony. The light teasing, yet expert way Draco did it… they might as well have been having sex, because those were the images Draco was conjuring into the Gryffindor's mind.

So it was completely unexpected when Draco moved his hands to Harry's chest and pushed him away as hard as he could. Harry staggered back, eyes wide.

"That what you wanted, Potter?" Draco asked coolly, echoing Harry's words. Harry stared, speechless. Draco smirked and ran his tongue slowly along his bottom lip, wetting it. Harry watched, as if mesmerized.

"_Never_ give them all they want," Draco said. Harry regarded him silently, crossing his arms.

"Oh, don't be mad," Draco said.

"Mad? No. You think I don't learn my lessons?" Harry smirked. "Give you 'all'… gave you everything _but_, Malfoy."

Draco's eyebrow twitched. "Been practicing, Potter?" he said, his voice icy to hide the emotion bubbling underneath.

"No more than you have," Harry replied, his voice equally as chill. Draco's eyes turned cold.

"Don't you dare accuse me. I'm not a cheat."

"So why did you leave?"

Draco's eyes widened marginally. _Damn._

"There was no one else," he said, truthfully.

"Oh? So then why?"

Draco looked away. His head was hurting again. _Fuck it. _"I don't know."

"Liar," Harry said, his voice deadly calm. Draco whirled around, cold fury blazing in his eyes.

"I said I don't-"

"Don't you _dare_ raise your voice to me!" Harry's emerald orbs burned with fiery rage, opposite to Draco's freezing ice. "Do you know of the _hell_ I went through for you? I did it _for you_, and then you give me some shitty excuse and _leave me_?"

"It wasn't an excuse dammit, it was the truth!" Draco's temper was notoriously short. It was all he could do to stop himself from what his mother called 'flinging barbs', which he was particularly talented at.

"Oh really." Harry folded his arms. "What was the 'truth' then?"

"I…" Draco frowned. _Fuck, why can't I remember?_ He wanted to scream in frustration.

"I don't know," he said, looking away, not able to bear the intensity of those burning emeralds.

"Hah," Harry said. "Some 'truth'. You can't even _remember_ it. And here you are, expecting me to believe your crappy lies _again_, and practically _run_ back into your arms, everything alright again," Harry said scornfully.

"I don't fucking _know_, alright?" Draco yelled. "I can't remember anything! My mem-"

"I said don't raise your voice to me!"

Harry's fist flew towards Draco's face. Draco's hand flew up like a whip and snatched Harry's wrist out of the air.

"Don't touch me," he hissed. "Don't. Ever. Touch. Me."

He released, pushing the teen with an inhuman strength, sending Harry crashing into a wall.

"How does that feel _now_, Scarhead?" the blonde sneered. "All I've done is tell you the truth. Hell, I was trying to be _nice_. And all you do hit me around. Well _fuck_ that, and fuck _you_. Go back to your _Mudblood_, since she's _such_ a good screw that she could replace _me_ so quickly. And you accuse _me_ of cheating." Draco spat. "You're the biggest hypocrite I know. You know what- I'm not taking this anymore. Don't ever let me see your face near me again."

With that, he left the room, slamming the door loudly behind him, the sound echoing in the deathly silent room. Harry sat, stunned, on the floor, when a gut-wrenching pain tore up his arm and snapped him back. The pain sent shockwaves traveling down his spine and he moaned in agony. He realized with a start that Draco had thrown him so hard that he had broken his arm, dislocating it at the shoulder. He struggled up, hissing at the pain.

It was only an instant later that he realized.

Draco had been speaking Parseltongue.


	8. Truth or Dare

Draco stormed back to the Slytherin tower, slamming the door to Pansy's room behind him furiously. He sat down on her bed and cursed loudly. What the hell had _happened_ in there? How could he just have lost control like that? He _never_ lost control!

He shuddered. The anger… he hated it. It scared him. It was so pure, so unadulterated… almost feral. Like a natural instinct, bubbling up and taking possession of his body.

_God, not the werewolf again_, he suddenly thought. He put his head in his hands. Not the werewolf.

He had been fighting the werewolf for years. He couldn't remember _not_ fighting it. Since it had bitten him when he was five…

Draco remembered that night with amazing clarity. Out at a ball, playing tag in the large, lush gardens with his best friend Pansy… the dark shadow, the red eyes… Pansy shrieking in horror as the creature ripped into his small body, tearing into the meat of his legs, fangs sinking into his hipbones, crushing them completely… his screams for Pansy to run for it, as the werewolf slammed his small frame onto the hard soil, grass and rock, smashing his spine cruelly into the sharp pebbles. Draco could remember staring at the werewolf's face, at its sinister red eyes, smelling its rancid breath, seeing the pieces of torn, shining flesh hanging in between its glinting reddish-brown teeth as he trembled fearfully beneath it and it towered above him, like a looming tower, an omen, like he was staring into his own fate.

It was the last thing he remembered.

From then on, the curse had never stopped. He had had to have a metal plate inserted for his hip. Even when he had been 'cured'… well.

Pansy was the only one who knew why Draco was always so irritable and weary on full moons.

It had been difficult. Although the werewolf no longer had power to come out, he could still feel it, could still sense it, running in his mind, searching for freedom.

And yet, he had _never_ lost control before. Not that way.

Draco got up and walked to the window. He looked at the sky. Yes, the moon was there, shining in all its glory… partially concealed by the clouds.

Draco shuddered and his grip on the windowsill tightened as a tingle ran agonizingly slow up his spine. He turned away and closed the curtains.

_It was there. But it was part covered_.

He knew the wolf wasn't at its greatest unless at full moon. That was when it was at full power, drawing its mysterious strength and agility from the shining white beams of the silver-white orb.

Dumbledore's gaze floated into his mind. The pointed look, his eyes… Draco had never seen those blues any more serious and devoid of humor as he had that day.

Draco dismissed it. _It was the wolf. It must have been. The moon must have been full. The clouds just… moved._

Somehow it didn't make him feel that much better.

Ron winced at the long line of expletives pouring almost endlessly from his friend's mouth, each more… creative, than the last.

"I'm _not_ even going to ask if it hurts," he said.

"One day I will _find_ the bastard who invented Skele-Gro," Harry gritted, "And _kill_ him."

"Does it really hurt that bad?"

"Must I _hurl_ you from the Astronomy Tower to demonstrate?"

"No, you mustn't!" Ron put on a shocked expression. "After all, who'll there be to make sure you don't go and accidentally kill yourself, being the idiot that you are?"

"Thank you _ever_ so much," Harry said sarcastically.

"My pleasure."

Harry threw his pillow at the redhead with his good hand, the movement sending a shockwave of pain jolting through to his bad arm down his spine and he yelled. Ron removed the pillow from his face.

"Geez Harry, that sounds really bad," Ron said in concern.

"Congratulations. You've just broken the record for making the most obvious statement in the world."

"Who did it to you?"

"Why do you ask?" Harry asked, immediately defensive, and Ron knew who it was. He decided to play it casual.

"Don't you think I should _know_ who broke my best friend's arm?"

"Maybe your best friend broke his own arm."

"I've never known my best friend to be a klutz."

"Maybe your best friend fell off a broom during practice."

"Maybe," Ron said. He felt a sudden surge of anger, mixed with an emotion he couldn't identify. He hesitated, then slammed his palm flat down onto the hospital table, standing up. He walked to the door.

"Ron?"

The redhead's hand twitched on the doorknob and he turned back. "Stop lying to me, then we'll talk," he said then slammed the door behind him.

As he stalked away from the Infirmary he realized what the emotion had been.

It was hurt.

"Draco?" Pansy walked into the room.

"What is it?" Draco asked, his train of thought broken.

"Someone wants to talk to you." She wrinkled her nose as she nodded in the direction of the Slytherin tower entrance. "It's a _Gryffindor_."

"Really." Draco got up, mildly curious. _Potter? No, he wouldn't dare…_

He went to the door and sighed. "Oh. It's you," he said. He leaned against the doorframe. "Come to beat me up again?"

To his surprise, the redhead looked suddenly tired. Ron ran a hand through his tousled hair.

"No, I… do you want to play chess?"

Draco must have looked startled, because a look of amusement made its way into Ron's eyes.

"There's no point saying something about catching germs or whatever stupid thing you always say. Knowing you, you've probably _been_ in the Gryffindor towers before, doing who knows what. Probably poisoning something," Ron couldn't resist saying the last part.

Draco decided to play innocent. "As an eight-year-old? Yes. Nice view of the castle from up there." _I should know_, he thought ironically, remembering clinging to the castle face by his –the werewolf's- claws. "And I wasn't going to say anything before, but now I'm tempted. Poison something? Really. And who said I would go to Gryffindor? Why can't we play it in Slytherin?"

"I asked. I set the rules," Ron said firmly. He raised an eyebrow. "So, ferret? Do you accept?"

"Was that a challenge, Weasel?" Draco smirked. "Alright. I accept."

The two walked in silence to the Gryffindor tower.

"Bishop takes pawn," Ron said, watching his piece cruelly clobber one of Draco's. "Check."

"Knight takes bishop," Draco said. He looked at the Gryffindor. "That was a careless mistake."

Ron didn't reply.

"Some chess master you are," Draco said, taunting him. He couldn't resist. "Even Goyle can play better than you."

"Who's Daryn?" Ron asked suddenly. Not for the first time that night, Draco looked startled, then his features turned carefully blank.

"Why do you ask, Weasel?"

Ron ignored the jibe. "You seemed to have a fixation on him, that's all."

"Since when?" Draco snapped.

"Since a few days ago, when you were eight."

Draco was silent.

"Do you remember that?" Ron asked.

"Let's get back to the game, shall we?" Draco said. Ron looked thoughtful.

"How about we make the game more interesting?"

"Oh?" Draco leaned forward. "And how shall we do that?"

Ron grinned. "How's this. Every time a player loses a piece, he has to answer a question. No objections allowed about the question asked, otherwise he has to do a dare."

"Basically, it's a Wizard-chess version of the Muggle 'truth or dare' game," Draco said scornfully, but Ron could tell he was still interested. He was right.

"What happens to the person who loses the game altogether?" Draco asked a minute later.

"We'll just see, shall we?" Ron asked, his voice a little daring. Draco's eyelids lowered.

"Ooh, was that a flirt, Weasel? What's next, a nice little date?"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "I'm trying to be nice here Malfoy. Let's not get disgusting." He looked down. "Rook, move to C4."

Draco smirked. "Knight, move to B7."

Ron looked thoughtful. "Rook takes pawn," he said. He looked up at the blonde. "Now. Who's Daryn."

Draco's eyes flickered then he turned his head away. "He was my father."

"I thought Lucius was your father?"

"One question at a time. Stick to your own rules, Weasel," Draco said. He looked down. "Knight, move to A5."

"Rook takes pawn," Ron said, watching as the finely carved stone castle smashed another one of Draco's pawns. "That was careless."

Draco looked disinterested. "It was a pawn. Are you going to ask me about Lucius?"

"No, that would be a waste," Ron said. He frowned, then grinned. "Alright, I will. Who's Lucius? Apart from your stepfather. I mean, how did your mom meet him?"

"He's…" Draco scowled. "You're determined to drag this out of me, aren't you?"

"No I'm- wait, yes I am," Ron said.

"He's my uncle," Draco said, mouth twitching slightly at the look on the redhead's face. "Knight takes bishop."

He looked at Ron smugly. "And now, it's my turn."

Ron sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Shoot."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Love to, can't. I don't intend to wring my answer from your dead carcass."

"So? Ask?"

Draco looked at Ron straight in the eyes, his own ice blue piercing through the emerald. "Alright then, why do you stick with Harry? Don't give me all that crap about him being your friend."

Ron stiffened. Draco smirked. "Come on. He treats you like a dog. He does, doesn't he?" he said. He cocked his head slightly. "He's just using you."

"I know."

"And you put up with it because?"

"Because…" Ron bowed his head. "New rule. None of this ever escapes the room."

"Fine."

"Because I feel indebted to him. He… if it wasn't for him, I don't think I'd have as many friends as I have now. I guess I was just using him too," Ron squirmed. "But he was my friend, really. It's just now he's trying to push me away… so I'm letting him. I don't want him to be my friend if he's going to be like this. But I'm still staying, to try and make him happier. I mean, there's still hope, right? And besides, I owe it to him."

Draco felt stunned. "That's not very Gryffindor-ish," he said.

"Neither is your playing chess with me very Slytherin-like," Ron retorted. Draco waved his hand. "Whatever. Just get back to the game."

Ron rolled his eyes and looked at the board. "Rook to C2."

"King to A5," Draco said, anticipating Ron's move to check.

"Pawn to D3."

"Rook to F6."

"Knight takes rook," Ron said triumphantly, watching as his white piece smashed down Draco's black castle. "What happened to your dad? Where is he?"

"He's… dead." Draco looked away.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Sure you are," Draco said sarcastically.

"It obviously hurts you a lot."

"You want your father to die, Weasel?"

Ron ignored that. Draco looked down at the board. "Bishop takes knight."

"What?" Ron suddenly noticed the little black bishop sliding diagonally up the board.

"So, Freckleface. Pray tell, what has Gryffindor's little Golden Boy been doing behind my back?" Draco asked, leaning forward.

"What? Why do you ask th-"

Draco held up a finger. "This is my question, not yours."

Ron shrugged. "After you left? Him and Hermione went steady for a long time. 'Mione eventually dropped him because he was getting all weird on her, and he went after Cho." Ron paused. "Now, that was _wild_. He used to come back to Gryffindor all messed up, and there wouldn't be a day when you could walk past the Great Hall without seeing them snog each other. 

"Sickening, really," he added. "But eventually Cho dumped him, harder than Hermione did. He went into depression for a while, then seemed to have this thing for Justin… Justin Finch-Fletchley, you know?"

Draco did. The blonde in Hufflepuff.

"I don't know," Ron shrugged. "Anyway, he didn't do anything about it. Just sat there and stared. I wasn't sure at the beginning, but when Hermione and I finally got the courage to ask about it, he said he wasn't interested in Justin in the least."

At this point Ron looked very relieved. "But he did say something weird. Something like, 'his hair, have you ever seen hair that light?' I can't really remember. Something on those lines."

Draco regarded Ron silently. "He would cry in his sleep," Ron said, almost as if in a dream-like state. "Just curl up, and cry. He never made a sound, and never told us why he was so upset. Hermione thought maybe it was because of Cho- she _had_ dumped his pretty hard. But no, Harry didn't want to have anything to do with Cho, and he didn't seem angry towards her either."

Ron suddenly shook his head and his eyes widened. "Hey, that's unfair, I told you so much!"

"Your fault, Weasel. I never asked for so much."

Ron scowled as he said, "Pawn to D4."

"Pawn to E6."

"Queen takes pawn," Ron said. He looked at Draco. "Why did you beat Harry up so bad? What had he done to you?"

Draco didn't answer immediately. "He hit me before," he finally replied. "It's fair." 

"You heal very quickly," Ron said, noticing the lack of scars and bruises on the blonde's face.

"Oh, are you going to change that now?"

"No," Ron said. "I want to continue the game. It's actually getting good."

"Thank you. I think. Pawn to E7."

"Queen to F8. Check."

"Pawn, cover the King," Draco commanded and the small black piece complied.

"Rook takes pawn," Ron said. "Check, and I get to ask another question."

"Fine."

"I would assume that you looked like your father when you were eight. Now you look like Lucius. What happened; did you dye your hair and grow it out?"

Draco laughed bitterly. "When I was little, I tried growing it out. It still stuck out at all angles and was messy. It was easier to keep it in bristles. What happened… isn't your business."

"You can't object to the question."

"And you were cheating," Draco said calmly. "You asked two questions in one. 'What happened', and 'did you dye your hair and grow it out'. I'm not objecting to the question; I've answered it already."

"Bloody hell, is it that big a secret?"

"You don't want to know," Draco said, as his eyes seemed to pierce an invisible hole through the Gryffindor's head. "Bishop takes rook."

"I can just get the Queen to take your bishop, you know."

"You wouldn't. I can get the King to take your Queen. Or have you forgotten that the King can also fight?" Draco asked. He leaned back on the chair and looked coolly at the redhead. "So, Weasel, why did you make me come here? Don't tell me you just felt competitive."

"The truth?" Ron said, looking at Draco with equal casualness. "Since you came back, Harry's been acting stranger than normal. Since he obviously doesn't want me to pound you into the ground –for _what_ reason I honestly don't know- I decided to get you to talk to me, the only way I knew you probably would."

"How cunning of you. Has anyone ever told you that you would make a good Slytherin?"

"Not recently, thank god," Ron said. "Queen, move back. Diagonally."

"Knight move to C3."

"Pawn, move to D4."

"Bishop to E6."

Ron could see what Draco was going to do. "Move it, rook."

Draco smirked. "Bishop to G4."

"Rook takes pawn," Ron said. "That was easy."

"Like I said, it's just a pawn," Draco said, shrugging.

"But now I get to ask you a question," Ron said. "You were really different when you were eight, you know?"

"I know," Draco said. "Don't tell me that was the question because that was a really stupid one."

"It wasn't. The question was… does Lucius torture you or something? Since you're not his son, and you're so different now than how you were then."

"What?" Draco started to laugh, startling Ron. "Of course he didn't! People change, is it so bad if I do?"

"That's not… alright then, fine, let's get blunt. You were really sweet as an eight year old. I admit. Now, at seventeen, you're arrogant, pushy and spoilt. What happened?"

Despite himself, Draco felt a pang of hurt. "Something happened. After that, people didn't want to know my anymore. Alright?"

"What was it that happened?"

Draco glared piercingly at Ron. "Don't push it, Weasel."

"Alright, fine," Ron said. Draco looked thoughtfully at the board, his brow furrowing as he looked from piece to piece. "Knight to B5."

"Pawn, move to F8."

A smile broke out on Draco's face. "Knight to C4. Check, check, check and checkmate."

"What?" Ron looked at the board in shock as his white king looked around then hurled his crown resignedly at the crowing black knight.

"Now, what to do with you," Draco said.

"What… how could I…" Ron looked at the board. It had been there, so plain and simple! If only he had moved his king first… moron!

_I had been thinking too much about what I should ask Malfoy next and not concentrating enough on the game_, Ron thought, and cursed himself. Damn it! The game was supposed to have been a ploy to trap Malfoy into answering his questions, and now instead that ferret had beaten him.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked, suddenly realizing Draco had gone to the door. Draco hesitated, but only for a second.

"Back to Slytherin," he said, the lie flowing smoothly off his tongue.

"You're not going to ask me to do anything?" Ron asked incredulously. Draco looked thoughtful, then his mouth quirked up in a shadow of a smile.

"Make Harry happy. Be a good friend," he said. He opened the door then turned back. "Oh, and by the way, happy birthday."

Ron couldn't help the genuine grin spreading over his face. "Thanks, ferret."

"Anytime Weasel," Draco replied, then left.

It was late. The Slytherin hadn't realized how much time had gone past; it had been hours since he had set out from the Slytherin tower. He was going to go back, but there was one place he had to go first.

He pushed open the door silently and moved in, feet making not a sound on the cold stone floor. His hand twisted open the door handle, and he crept in, closing the door behind him. He made his way to the bed, his hand hovering hesitantly in the air. The teen's body beneath him trembled as he curled the thick blanket closer around his shoulders and buried his face deeper into his pillow. Draco stroked Harry's dark locks soothingly.

"Don't cry, my emerald warrior," he whispered, "Don't cry. I'm here now."

He touched Harry's face gently then kissed the brunette's forehead softly, brushing back his raven-black hair with his cool hand.

"Sweet dreams," he said, and left.

That night, Harry dreamed of silver dragons flying in the moonlight and he smiled. Someone cared.

A/N: I didn't really drag out a chessboard to play it and see what happened. I just made up some coordinates. Please don't try to follow it, it was totally randomized. I don't care if I got stuff wrong, so don't comment about it or I shall be forced to kill you. I'm trying to make a game of chess sound interesting, so be thankful. This writing British-style is killing me, so I hope you don't mind if I 'Americanize' it. I'm sorry. For some reason, writing 'mum' instead of 'mom' seems strange to me. No offense.


	9. I killed him

"Harry? Are you awake?"

"No," Harry said, turning over in the bed. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"Yes you are, now come on, wake up or you'll be late for class," Hermione said. Harry responded by hugging his blanket closer around his shoulders.

"I know you're healed Harry, now come on," Hermione said.

"Or Snape will skin us alive," Ron said. He mimicked the Potion master's low, drawling voice. "Late again, Potter? A thousand points from Gryffindor, and toilet duties for the rest of your miserable existence!"

"Leave me alone," Harry said sourly. Ron stared then rolled his eyes in exasperation and left. Hermione stayed behind.

"Harry, Ron was only trying to be nice," she said.

"Who asked him to be so sensitive?" Harry said defensively.

"Harry, _please_…" Hermione said, almost pleading, and Harry knew they weren't on the subject of getting to class anymore.

"Please what? Please let us help you? God Hermione, when will you stop bloody treating me like some… some _nutcase_?" he spat. "I know what I'm doing, alright? I don't need you two babying me around!"

Hermione's features darkened. "You… why do we even bother?"

"It's beyond me," Harry said coldly.

Hermione took a breath and calmed down. "Harry, look, I'm not trying to piss you off, alright?"

"So what _are_ you here for?"

"To get you to class," Hermione said. "So you don't get in trouble."

Harry was silent. "Please, Harry," Hermione said. "I'm asking you as a friend. A concerned friend. Please."

Her hand touched his raven locks tenderly. Harry suddenly whirled around to face her, snatching her wrist and holding it tightly.

"A friend. Is that all we are now?" Harry's voice was soft, but his eyes blazed with an intense fire.

"What do you want, Harry?" Hermione's voice was equally as soft.

"I… I don't know," Harry said. His grip on the girl's wrist loosened. Hermione brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it gently.

"What do you want us to be, Harry?" she asked.

"I want everything to be just like before," Harry murmured. Hermione smiled sadly and touched his face; much the same way Draco had done the previous night.

"Harry…" she said. "I wish we could… but we can't. There's something between us. Can you feel it? It's pushing us apart."

Harry sat up slowly. "Hermione, will you do something for me?"

"What is it?"

"Tell Snape I don't feel well. Make something up. Please," he added, seeing the expression on her face. "Just once."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, please don't…"

"Stop saying please!" Harry said. He calmed himself. "I know what I'm doing Hermione. Tell him. Just once. For me."

Hermione wavered then nodded. "Alright," she said. She bent down slowly, as if to kiss Harry gently on the lips. Harry closed his eyes. The girl moved away at the last second.

"I… I got to go," she said and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. 

Harry sat there on the bed, eyes still closed, then sighed and fell back onto the soft pillow.

Hermione had misunderstood his question. He hadn't wanted to go back to being girlfriend and boyfriend.

He had wanted to go back to how they were in their first year. The three of them; him, Hermione and Ron. Happy, naïve and carefree, each determined to make their way in the world and become a legend.

"What had gone wrong?" Harry murmured to himself, even though he knew the answer.

It was hard to recover from snakebite. Especially one so deep and poisonous.

Draco hadn't wanted to attend the Potions class. Not initially; only after Pansy had (quite literally) dragged him to the toilet and doused his head with ice-cold water had he finally gotten up, quite irritable and grumpy and shoved the girl out of the toilet to wash up. Now he lagged behind.

"Come on, don't tell me you're sleepy," Pansy said. "You've always been an early riser."

"Hence the reason you dumped ice onto my head."

"Ice _water_," Pansy corrected.

"Whatever," Draco said. He took his own pace, trailing lazily behind, knowing it irritated the girl.

"What, were you planning to spend the whole day in there?"

"I haven't had much sleep," Draco said, yawning slightly. "Was up until quite late."

"Oh really? Doing what?"

_Staying with Harry in the Infirmary_, Draco thought. He had originally meant to leave once he had seen the teen, but just couldn't bring himself to it and instead had stayed long hours by the Gryffindor's side, stroking his hair soothingly whenever he frowned or hissed, feeling ever so slightly guilty at the obvious pain the brunette was going through thanks to him.

_He should be well now_, Draco thought, and felt a sudden reluctance to go to the class.

"Hm?"

Pansy sighed in irritation. "Really, you men, all so inattentive."

"When in the company of such a beautiful woman? Of course."

Pansy flushed slightly then frowned playfully. "Don't try to flatter your way out of this one, Draco."

"Who said I was using flattery?"

"You're doing it again!" Pansy exclaimed.

"Would you prefer me to call you a hag?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Pansy tried to keep a stern face but failed.

"Then what did you mean?" Draco smiled slightly.

"I… what were we talking about again?"

"I have forgotten," Draco said with a childishly innocent expression on his face. Pansy sighed.

"Anyone within close contact of you shall surely go insane," she said ruefully.

"And you?"

Pansy smiled. "I was already half mad to begin with."

When Harry hadn't shown for Potions Draco's first emotion was a mixture of relief and concern. Relief because it meant he wouldn't have to go through the whole uncomfortable morning with _him_ in the room. Concerned… well. He watched Hermione go up to Ron. The redhead seemed to be frustrated, asking something then exploding when the girl shook her head.

For the first time in his life Draco wished he were a Gryffindor, so he could simply go over and ask. As it were, he simply had to be content with wondering.

'Be content with' were not words that went together in a Malfoy's dictionary. If they could get more, they would.

"Sir, may I be excused from this lesson?"

"Whatever for?" Snape asked in astonishment. The rest of the class watched in amazement. _Nobody_ asked to be excused from Potions, unless of course they had a death wish.

It was a good thing then that after one and a half years Snape still found the boy his favorite.

"Are you mad?" Pansy hissed. "Sit down!"

Draco ignored her, touched her shoulder with a hand. "I have my reasons," he said coolly. "I would also like to remind you that even though I am here in Hogwarts, it's only temporary until I can return to…" his grip tightened slightly. "To Durmstrang. I'm not required to attend classes."

The level of noise in the dungeons increased. Draco wasn't staying? Then why on earth had he come back in the first place?

"What?" Pansy whispered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Quiet!" Snape barked. He turned to face Draco, a sour scowl on his face. "Alright," he said grudgingly, "but next time, if you wish to skip classes in this manner, do not waste my time by even coming."

"Understood," Draco said. "Thank you."

He left a room in murmurs, his smile hidden in the shadows as he heard Ron say behind him, "The lucky bastard!"

Harry had snuck back to the Gryffindor towers after Hermione had left and had been officially pissed, sitting in front of his trunk, broken lock in one hand and splintered wand in the other. He wasn't stupid; he had pieced together what had happened, and was _furious_ that Draco had _dared_ to look at his personal, his _private_ belongings.

That had been an hour ago. Now he lay on the bed, having calmed down after finding everything in place. He twirled the crystal rose in the light, frozen and kept unspoiled and fresh, like a bug trapped in a case of amber. Beside him lay the picture of Draco, smirking at him, his hair a beautiful mist reflecting in the light of the moon. The picture hadn't looked like that originally; had it been captured on a Muggle camera, it would have portrayed a very startled Slytherin, a 'caught' expression on his face. Harry had found him staring, almost as if in a trance, mesmerized at the glowing white orb. He remembered putting his arms around the boy, and found he had been trembling, although he insisted that nothing was wrong.

Harry wondered why Draco hadn't been affected by the powers of the moon. He would be a bit on edge, but that would be it.

_Maybe he took Wolfsbane behind my back_, Harry thought. _But then, why didn't he tell me? Was he too proud? Embarrassed?_

_Who are you trying to fool? That may be one of the reasons, but it's not the main one._

_Then what is?_

To that his subconscious seemed to have no reply. Harry sighed. Since he was little, mystery and adventure had always intrigued him, and he supposed now that it was the thick fog of unanswered questions surrounding the blonde that drew the Gryffindor to him. Worse, Draco seemed to know this, and used it well to his advantage; he never opened up, not fully, and whenever he did he only let out a little piece of information, one that further ensnared the naturally curious Gryffindor until he found himself wrapped tightly in the Slytherin's wire of endless mysteries.

_Like dangling a carrot in front of a donkey_, Harry thought grimly. As he gazed idly at the exquisiteness of the crystallized black rose his mind drifted to the Draco he knew then and now. The difference in appearance was obvious. The skin was almost as light; had only darkened a shade, and was just as smooth as before. Draco was ever so slightly more muscular, not so much that it was obvious, but obvious enough if he were shirtless.

_Urgh. Don't think about it._

And then of course, there was there hair.

Harry had to admit, he had been surprised and somewhat shocked when he first saw Draco. Before, the Draco he knew kept his hair perfectly, spending hours every morning, combing it and gelling it back with meticulous care. Now he wore his hair loosely in a small tail, free to take its own path in the blowing wind.

Harry liked the new look better. It made Draco look more… more casual, more free-spirited somehow, in a way that still kept a hint of the formality of before. It also seemed to symbolize something… like a snake shedding its skin, Draco changed his hairstyle to show he had gone into another phase.

The only problem was, Harry wasn't sure what was the same, and what had changed.

_Why do I like him so much?_ Harry wondered. _Why can't I take my mind off him?_

He knew Draco's explanation for it. "Opposites attract," the blonde had said, tugging playfully on Harry's earlobe with his teeth. Harry had to agree. They were like fire and ice, black and white, except lately Harry had come to wonder who was the black and who was the white.

Yesterday, he had seemed to be suffering in the Infirmary, but truthfully, a part of him welcomed the pain. It sickened him, but it was true. He deserved it. After all, what had Draco done to deserve his contempt?

_Scratch that. What had his eight-year-old self done?_

Nothing. Harry had to admit; Draco at the age of eight had been adorable, his intense curiosity adding to his cuteness, his lycanthropy shrouding him in an air of ambiguity that carried through even until now, those icy-blue orbs showing more than a boy that age should know. And yet it annoyed the Gryffindor, made him shout and want to hit and hurt that little boy as much as he could. And it seemed he couldn't stop it, this raging ball of pent up fire inside of him, screaming for release.

That was another difference. Harry ran on pure emotion, whilst Draco relied on his mind. While Draco used words to hurt and accomplish, Harry chose the more physical methods.

"When did it become that way?" Harry asked himself. "When did it become that I was the bad guy?"

"Personally, I prefer the bad boys in the end," the chair said. Or more specifically, the voice _from_ the chair. Harry leapt up in the air with a rather undignified squawk. The blonde sprawled lazily over the seat, one leg tossed haphazardly over the armrest while the other went diagonally down where it should be, with one arm resting over the top of the chair while the other hung down easily by his side, swinging in the air. He looked mildly amused, and it suddenly struck Harry; Draco had never been so casual before. He had always taken the formal approach, wouldn't have been caught dead in the position he was in now.

Not that Harry wasn't enjoying the view. Spread out like this, Harry could get a perfect view of every inch of Draco's body. Covered with clothes of course, but nevertheless…

He wasn't going to say this, of course.

"Comfortable?" Harry asked cynically. Draco stretched, the movement cat-like.

"Not very, truth be told," he admitted. He twisted and sat normally, stretching up again, arching his spine straight up, slowly against the chair back. He smirked and shook his head.

"Much better."

"Anything else?" Harry said sarcastically. Draco looked at him and arched an eyebrow, his mouth quirking up slightly.

"There is, in fact," he said. He stood up and untied the loop around his slim waist, unfastening his thick, velvety black robes. He shrugged them off slowly, taking his time, making sure that Harry was looking. He sighed in pleasure as the heavy robes slipped off his slender shoulders in a pile on the floor.

Harry couldn't pull his eyes away, as much as he wanted to. Draco smirked somewhat teasingly at the Gryffindor.

"Well?" he asked.

"Well what?"

"Wouldn't you like me to get _more_ comfortable?" the blonde said, tugging meaningfully on his green and silver tie. Harry stared and forced himself to look away.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked. Draco stopped.

"Can't I come in here without being questioned?"

Harry didn't say a word. Instead, he threw the splintered wand at the blonde. Draco caught it with ease.

"Thanks, by the way," Harry said, his tone heavily sardonic.

"My pleasure. Was my greatest dream really, to blow up the wand of the great Harry Potter," Draco returned with an equally cynical tone. "Since when did you get so sarcastic?"

"Since when did you decide to be so inquisitive?"

"Inquisitive only into your life Potter."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think it means?"

Harry sighed wearily. "I don't want to play these games anymore, Malfoy."

"Oh?" Draco came close, kneeling on the floor. "Then what _do_ you want, Golden Boy?"

"Don't call me that," Harry said, and leaned in and kissed a surprised Draco on the lips, deepening it slowly. A moan and a lick, and the roles reversed, the blonde taking over and Harry following his lead. Harry hissed softly in Parseltongue as Draco nipped at the delicate skin under his ear, knowing it drove the blonde wild.

"Don't stop," he whispered.

"Why Potter, whatever makes you think I plan to?" Draco responded, licking the brunette's earlobe with his cool tongue. Harry's eyes grew wide and he pushed the teen away.

"What? First you say you want me, then you shove me away? What the hell is wrong with you?" Draco asked, irritated.

"You understood me?" Harry asked in Parseltongue. Over the years the teen has honed his skills so that he could switch to and fro if he pleased.

"Of course I could!" Draco snapped. "What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"No idiot," Harry replied quietly. "Just suddenly gifted in Parseltongue."

The silence was deafening.

"I'm not speaking Parseltongue," Draco said quietly. Only he felt it this time, his tongue vibrating and bending in ways it wasn't supposed to in his mouth, producing strange, inhuman sounds that made a new language to him. Harry looked at him.

"I'm not," Draco repeated, trying to change back. How did his tongue move again? Was his jaw supposed to move this way?

"I just want to know how you learnt it," Harry said calmly. The blonde noticed with slight, brief envy how the harsh hisses rolled so smoothly off the Gryffindor's tongue, like thickened honey.

"I…" Draco frowned. "I didn't," he replied in struggled English. Harry raised an eyebrow (a habit he had long acquired from Draco), but didn't pursue.

"Alright then. New question. What are you doing in my room?"

Draco's expression visibly relaxed. "Why? Is it against some strange Gryffindork rule?" the blonde asked.

Harry snorted. "Since when have _you_ ever cared about the rules? And I thought you were never going to talk to me."

Draco picked up the crystal rose silently. The black in the petals swirled alluringly, slivers of dark midnight blue slithering through the dark like tiny wriggling snakes. "You still have this?" he asked. Harry sighed in annoyance.

"After all the fuss you made for me to keep it? Of course I did."

Draco ran his thumb lightly over one of its delicate petals, feeling a mild shock of static pass from the digit to the rose, pulling them together.

"Why is the thing of so much importance to you anyway?" Harry asked, noticing the faraway look forming in Draco's eyes.

"Hm? Oh, no reason," Draco said casually. Too casually.

"Really," Harry said, reaching over and taking the flower by the stem. "Then you don't mind if I break it."

"Don't!" Draco said quickly.

"I thought it was of no importance to you," Harry said, subconsciously turning Draco's words back on him, another thing he had picked up from the blonde-haired Slytherin.

"It should be of importance to _you_," Draco improvised smoothly. "After all, _I_ gave it to you."

"Even more reason to throw the damned thing away," Harry scoffed.

"Heartless," Draco shook his head. "I leave you for one and a half years and you turn heartless."

"Well _that's_ hypocritical, isn't it?" Harry retorted.

"Hypocritical how?"

Harry sat up and looked at Draco. "After so long, you still haven't told my why you did it," he said.

"Did what?"

"Kill Colin."

Draco frowned. "Colin who?"

"Don't play dumb. Colin Creevey."

"The kid with the camera?"

"Why did you do it?" Harry repeated, his voice calm and cool.

"I didn't kill him," Draco said.

"Yes you did!" Harry exploded. "Don't you remember? You caused so much _hell_ for me!"

Draco frowned. "No," he said. "I don't remember."

Harry sighed and forced himself to calm down. "You always have to make things difficult."

"Not everything is black and white."

"Yeah, well, the shades of gray in between aren't exactly pretty," Harry said.

"I don't remember," Draco repeated.

"How could you _forget_?" Harry asked.

"I killed Creevey?" Draco suddenly felt faint. Another memory gone missing? Why couldn't he remember _this_? He wasn't a murderer!

Was he?

Harry stared at him, looked into his icy, sliver-flecked eyes. "You really _don't_ remember," he said softly, a slight slip of horror in his tone of voice.

_Am I that transparent?_ Draco wondered. "What did I do?"

"Colin was found in front of the Great Hall an hour after everyone had left from dinner," Harry said. "Dead."

"Food poisoning," Draco said scornfully. Harry shook his head.

"Unforgivable curse," he said. Draco suddenly felt as if a huge weight had been dropped on his shoulders, and took in a deep breath, feeling as if the air had just been pummeled out of him.

_Unforgivable curse_. He knew the one; after all, Charms had been his second best subject (after Potions), and this one he had easily learnt when he had been only nine.

Avada Kedavra. The killing curse.

His eyes traveled up the Gryffindor's face to rest on his forehead.

Harry looked away, feeling the blonde's intense gaze burn at his scar. "Remember now?"

"No," Draco said. "Not yet."

"What happened to you, Draco?" Harry said. "You never used to forget. You used to know everything."

"I never claimed to be omniscient," Draco said softly.

"You really don't remember?" Harry asked.

"I already said it before. I would never lie to you."

There was a long pause, then Harry replied. "I believe you," he said, lying back on the bed. Draco detected no hint of sarcasm this time.

"After all," Harry said, staring at the ceiling. "You might just throw me into the Infirmary again."

Draco struggled to hold back the grin threatening to plaster over his face. "Yes, well, you deserved it."

"Did I?"

"You seemed to have made it a habit, slamming and hitting me around."

"And of course, Mr. 'High-and-Mighty' Malfoy won't settle for anything that doesn't go his way."

"_Especially_ not from _commoners_," Draco agreed.

"Heaven forbid," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"You know, I had to most interesting dream last night," the brunette said, his voice wistful.

"Oh really?" Draco sat beside the teen on the bed.

"Mm."

"What was it about?"

"See, here's the strange thing," Harry said, turning to see Draco in the eye. "My arm was aching and stinging like crazy, right? And I could see myself… kind of like an out of body projection, except I'm not in the Infirmary, I'm in a hellish place where it's hot, everything I though burns my skin and I'm writhing in agony. Then suddenly I hear this voice, calm and soothing. It goes, 'Shh, calm down, it's okay warrior, it's okay'. I feel my hair move back like someone stroked it, and suddenly I lurch into this strange world. It's like the Quidditch pitch at night. The grass is cool, and there's a slight breeze. The moon is high, and reflects on the dewdrops of each blade of grass. There's a flash in the sky, and a silver dragon comes down onto the pitch."

"How poetic," Draco said. "You have a strange imagination."

"It's elegant," Harry continued. "It stretches its long neck for the sky and spreads out its shimmering wings, then slowly shrinks and changes gracefully into a human." All the time he said this he watched Draco's expression.

"And then?" Draco asked.

"Then it- he walks up to me. His hair shines a pale misty whitish-blonde in the moonlight. He comes up close, smiles, places his arms around my shoulders, leans in close…"

"Then?"

"What do you think?" Harry said. He paused, then smiled the first genuine smile he had ever done for a long time. "Thanks, by the way."

Draco's eyes flickered briefly, then he laughed. "You really do have a strange imagination Potter. Dreaming of snogging boys? Really."

Harry shrugged. "Found it strange, really. 'Warrior'. Who else here calls me warrior?" he said. Draco was silent.

"What happened after the murder?" he finally said, going back to Colin. Harry sighed.

"I didn't know it was you," he said, obviously not wanting to have returned to this topic. "Until you came and begged me to help you."

"I still don't remember. Move over."

Harry saw the other teen move for space to lie down. "Oh no you don't. This is my bed."

"And here I was under the illusion that you Gryffindorks liked to share," Draco said, lying down so that his head rested on Harry's outstretched arm, just in the crook where the shoulder finished and the arm began. Harry felt Draco's warm body next to his and his long silky hair draped over his shoulder muscles and shivered.

"Cold?" Draco moved himself closer, and despite himself Harry felt the blood rush to his cheeks.

"You came to me," Harry said, "and told me to tell everyone you had been with me during the time of Colin murder, doing a homework assignment. You begged me not to let them take you to Azkaban."

"You did it?"

"You're here, aren't you?" Harry retorted. "And not in a jail cell."

"Azkaban isn't just any ordinary prison," Draco said. "It's like a bloody mental asylum, except you go insane inside instead of outside."

"You seem to know it well."

"My mother stayed in there for a while," Draco said. From his position on the bed Harry couldn't see the expression on the teen's face.

"What happened?"

"She was framed," Draco said. "For a crime she didn't commit."

"Is _that_ why she always seems so touchy then?"

"My mother's not touchy," Draco said. "She never was. Believe it or not, she was always a kind and sweet person, to me, at least. I can prove it; I can show you a picture of her when she was young. Typically Hufflepuff."

"What house did she get into?"

"Ravenclaw."

"Oh," Harry said.

"What? Did you think she would be in Slytherin?"

"Well… yes," Harry admitted. "She seems so… cold."

Draco laughed in derision. "So everyone in Slytherin is 'cold', then? I was lucky; my mother _wasn't_ driven insane from her time in Azkaban. But she came back home a different woman; that much was for sure. Was like a fucking Dementor ate out her soul, ate out her happiness, bit by bit until she was just this cold, hard shell."

Harry was slightly startled by this information. Draco rarely ever gave so much information about his family without demanding as much back.

"So how did she meet your dad?" he asked. "Slytherins aren't exactly what you'd call 'sociable'."

Draco looked confused. "Slytherin?"

"Don't tell me Lucius was a Ravenclaw or something now, that's a bit too farfetched for me to believe."

"_Lucius_?" Draco said. "Oh, right."

"Oh right what?" Harry asked.

"Lucius… isn't my father," Draco said. "But you can't tell anyone that," he added quickly.

"He's… what?" Harry jerked. "But you look…"

"Like him?" Draco said. He smiled, slightly. "I didn't _always _look like him."

Harry remembered vividly the brown, spiky hair and wide inquisitive eyes. In truth, it had only been the eyes that hadn't changed… much. Just as piercing when they wished to be, mesmerizing, mysterious…

"Who's your real dad then?"

"His name was Daryn Malfoy," Draco said, his voice distant. "Youngest son to Alastair Malfoy and Patricia Finn. He was from Gryffindor."

There was a short pause. "Why are you telling me so much?" Harry asked softly.

"Because you asked," Draco said, shifting position on Harry's arm.

"Don't give me that. You're the master at switching topics and you know it."

"Would you prefer I didn't tell?" Draco asked.

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

There was a long silence, then Harry spoke, his voice seeming to fill the room, calm yet clear. "Wow. Your dad was a Gryffindor? What happened to him? I mean, why isn't he with you now?"

"He's… dead," Draco said.

"How?" Harry persisted.

He somehow felt he had said the wrong thing, asked the wrong question. The blonde's body stiffened completely, and he turned to look away from Harry, curling himself up slightly, holding his arms across his chest as if giving himself a hug, reminding the brunette vaguely of a small child, trying to protect himself from something. Draco mumbled something.

"What?" Harry said. "I didn't hear you."

Another silence. "I really wish you wouldn't ask," Draco sighed. "He died a long time ago, when I was seven. I don't really want to talk about it."

It would have been easy to drop the subject, had it been anyone else. Unfortunately, Harry was cursed with being both naturally curious and stubborn when he wished to be.

"Can't be that bad," Harry said.

"My father is _dead_," Draco said, his voice loud, echoing painfully around the room, "because I killed him."

"I killed him," he repeated, softer this time, and his body started to shake, holding back the unbidden tears.


	10. Shattered glass

A/N: Yeesh, I haven't updated this thing in _ages_! Many apologies to everyone who was waiting. I originally wrote this story sometime last February, and when I got up to the 11th chapter (yes, there is an 11th chapter) I ran out of ideas and was content to just let the story dribble out. So, good news and bad news. Good news is, I've decided to try and take this story back up, since I've realized I've got a pretty good plotline happening here. Bad news is, I've almost forgotten what the whole story's about (it's been a year, people!) and my writing style may have changed slightly, so there may be slight changes in how the characters talk and act from chapter 12 onward. That, and the fact that I said _try_. No promises, people. *crosses fingers* 

Harry was stunned.

_What? Why?_ he wanted to scream, but kept silent instead. It just seemed inappropriate. He lay there uncomfortably, not knowing quite what to do. Trying to console the blonde would only embarrass him, but just lying there made him feel… strange.

Useless.

Finally, he said, "Why?" softly, almost like a hesitant whisper.

"I didn't want to," Draco said, calming. "I was hungry."

Harry was… alarmed, to say the least.

"_It_ was hungry," Draco amended, feeling Harry stiffen slightly.

"Who?"

"The wolf."

Harry found it strange how Draco referred to himself and the werewolf as two different beings.

"It was so hungry," Draco shuddered. "But then again, it was always hungry… no matter how much it ate, no matter how much it…" Draco hesitated for a second, "killed, there was always room for _one more_."

"Why didn't you just stuff yourself in human form?" Harry asked.

"I wish that was how it worked," Draco smiled wryly. "I thought Lupin was your friend, didn't you ever ask him?"

He sighed. "If only things were that easy… you and the werewolf are not one body, just two minds in one, if that makes sense. While in human form, your human mind is strongest, but the werewolf is still there. In wolf form, the wolf is the strongest, though the human is still there."

"Isn't that the same?" Harry asked.

"No," Draco said. "How can it be? Werewolves aren't schizophrenic; it's not like you create a psychotic version of yourself. Once you're bitten, the DNA of the wolf that bit you gets transferred into you, so that you share the same body as it."

"So you're telling me that right now, in your head, you can hear it," Harry sounded sarcastic.

"Yes," Draco said seriously.

"Oh really? Then what's it saying?"

"You really want to know?" Draco sighed. "It's hungry. It wants to eat. It wants to take control again and hunt. It wants to kill. It… it can taste the blood in between its teeth, sweet and warm and coppery. It can feel the way soft flesh gives way in its jaws. It wants to feel the ground yield beneath its feet as it runs and runs, always hunting."

"You're… not making that up?"

"Would I make that up?" Draco said. 

"You know what the most disgusting thing was?" he asked, smiling dryly. Harry didn't reply. "I _enjoyed_ it," Draco continued. "He was… delicious. The blood, the flesh, the fresh, fragrant meat… it was overwhelming."

He rolled over. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to an item in Harry's hand. Before Harry could answer, Draco had stretched over the teen's body to take the object. He looked at it.

"Was I ever that scrawny?" Draco wondered, staring at his smirking photo.

"I believe you were even scrawnier in the first year," Harry said.

"You weren't meant to answer that," Draco said. He looked at the photo again. "Oh, and the _hair_… the hair was hell in its purest form."

"I've never known you to be lazy," Harry said.

"_You_ try having to wake up at 4 every morning then rowing until 3, with classes until 10. You'll be so dead on your feet you won't even remember your own name."

"Why so much rowing?"

Draco shrugged, a slightly difficult task considering he was lying over Harry's chest. "Beats me. The man's a raving lunatic."

"But he accomplished the impossible."

"What's that?"

"He actually got _you_ to _exercise_," Harry grinned. "And here I was thinking you were to be a scrawny little thing for the rest of your life."

"Oh, don't make me hit you," Draco said, smiling slightly.

"What's Durmstrang like then?" Harry asked, putting his arms behind his head. Draco frowned.

"You know, I can't remember."

"Again?" Harry asked. "That's some strange case of amnesia… you remember the schedule of the day, but you don't remember what the school was like.

Draco decided not to mention anything about how the Headmaster didn't seem to remember him, either. "Please don't ask, alright? Gives me a bloody headache trying to think about it."

Harry was silent for a while. "You seem fine in the picture," he said.

"So?"

"Why haven't you turned werewolf?"

Draco thought quickly. "Haven't you ever heard of Wolfsbane?"

"I never saw you take it."

"Ah, well, it's a mystery then, isn't it?" Draco smirked.

"You and your mysteries," Harry said. "They're going to be the death of me some day."

"It would help if you wouldn't be so Gryffindorishly nosy," Draco said.

"Nosy?" Harry said indignantly.

"Mm," Draco said, leaning over to sit on Harry's chest. He planted a kiss on the brunette's nose, licking the tip lightly. "Nosy," he said.

"Well, if you weren't so typically Slytherin-like…" Harry said.

"Slytherin-like how?"

"Persistent."

"Oh?"

"Well, for one thing, you keep insisting on these 'mysteries' of yours," Harry said, sitting up. "And for another, you keep insisting on doing this."

He pulled Draco into him, wrapping his muscular arms around the blonde's shoulders, and kissed him.

"Mmm," Draco murmured, running his hands up Harry's chest to drape around the brunette's neck, forcing Harry's hands down to his waist, "nice though, isn't it?"

"And," Harry said, taking Draco's hands off from around him, "you always insist on being in control."

Draco leaned back, touching a finger to Harry's lips playfully. "What would the world be like without _someone_ in control?" he asked.

"Well, maybe if you let _me_ be in control once…" Harry said, licking Draco's finger.

"Hmm… maybe," Draco said, retracting his finger. He closed his eyes.

"Go on then," he said, puckering a little. "Take control."

Harry smirked. He took Draco's face softly… then twisted, hard, and started biting and licking the blonde's neck, just under his ear. Draco exhaled sharply.

"Like that?" Harry said, deliberately hissing in Parseltongue, his words slipping smoothly off his tongue, rapid and harsh. Draco moaned in reply, and Harry took his wrists, brought his arms up to his shoulders. Draco tried to arch his neck, but Harry held his chin roughly.

"I'm in control," he whispered. "You're not getting what you want this time."

"Hn… but Malfoys always get what they want," Draco hissed back in Parseltongue, and whirled his head back round to meet with Harry's lips, forcing his tongue in, licking passionately, taking in every flavor, every bit of sweetness he could get. Harry's hands tightened on a bunch of Draco's long, silky hair and Draco gasped in pain. Then the brunette's hands trailed down the blonde's chest, down his body, sliding past his slim hips to clasp behind his back.

"So… how's my Parseltongue?" Draco murmured, his hisses coming out long and soft, completely opposite to Harry's.

"Mmm… it's Par-_sel_-tongue, not Parseltongue… you have to make this sort of movement…" Harry demonstrated, his tongue sliding over Draco's.

"Teach me," Draco said, retracting his tongue so his lips still touched Harry's.

"In time," Harry said, licking at Draco's mouth.

"No," Draco said, moving his head to Harry's ear. He nibbled the earlobe softly, his warm breath ticking the inside of the Gryffindor's ear as he said, "Now."

It was about all Harry could take. His hands slid from behind the blonde's back to his chest and he pushed him over so he lay flat on his back on the soft bed. Draco's eyes widened.

"Ha-"

"Shut up," Harry said, and kissed him hard, his hands running over the blonde's body. Draco tried to move, then gave up and brought his hands up to the back of Harry's head, pulling the two tighter together. Harry moaned in ecstasy, and his mouth pulled away from Draco's as Draco's moved up to lick at his scar. Harry's lips trailed down the blonde's chin, down his neck, stopping at his shirt.

Then, with one fluid motion, he took hold of the collar of Draco's shirt tightly… and ripped.

Draco gasped as half his shirt buttons snapped off, his chest suddenly exposed to the chill. At the sound, Harry froze, stopped. He got off, hurriedly.

"I um… toilet," he said, his face red, and he left quickly. Draco propped himself up on his arm slowly, his face flushed. He got off the bed, his trousers making a rustling sound on the soft cotton sheets. Holding his shirt together at the top, he walked, wobbly, to the chair and put his robes on, dazed. What… had just… happened?

He heard the water turn on from inside the bathroom. He walked to it hesitantly then stopped. His hand strayed to Harry's desk. Feeling parchment, he looked down. He read it then smirked and picked up Harry's quill. He dipped it elegantly into the inkwell and lowered his hand to the paper, making two fast slashes. Then he carefully placed the quill back to its original place and left, a smile on his face as his footsteps resounded around the silent corridor walls.

Harry splashed his face, ice-cold water chilling him to the bone. He took off his glasses and splashed some onto his closed eyes, taking in a deep breath to slow his racing heart. He looked at himself in the mirror, gasping, hair dripping liquid that rolled down his face to his chin. He looked at his own emerald green eyes… and saw Draco's.

"Shit!" he cursed. He looked away, his cheeks burning red. What the hell had gotten _into_ him?

It was all around him. His smell… Draco had a very distinctive smell. He always smelled of apples, for some reason that Harry couldn't find. The brunette could still feel him, the warmth of their bodies pressing against each other, the silkiness of Draco's hair in his hands, his soft skin…

_STOP IT!_ Harry shouted to himself. _Stop it stop it stop it!_

_Oh shut up. It was what you wanted._

Harry sat down on the edge of the bathtub, suddenly breathless, like someone had punched him hard in the gut.

Yes. It was. It _was_ what he wanted.

"Am I that driven by emotion? So much that I can't even control myself anymore?" Harry murmured.

He put his head in his hands. In a sense, it was worse than lycanthropy. At least, in lycanthropy, the person had an excuse for going out of control. Here, he had none.

His face felt hot. He got up and splashed water on his face again and winced at the pain.

It was then that he realized.

His scar was hurting.

---

As soon as Draco stepped into the room Pansy leapt.

"Alright, tell me, _why_ the hell did you…" Pansy trailed off and stared.

"What?"

"Okay, who is it," Pansy said.

"What who?"

"Come _on_ Draco!" she said. "It's all over you!"

She smirked. "I never thought you'd skip _Potions_ for a snog… doesn't sound like you. And here I was worrying and thinking you'd suddenly become sick or something."

"A _what_?" Draco said incredulously.

Pansy tilted her head and smirked, licking her lips seductively. "Mmm… been working out recently?"

"I…" Draco suddenly realized what she was talking about and held his shirt together at the top, his face turning slightly red. "Pansy!"

"I was _kidding_, Draco!" Pansy laughed, walking to the cupboard. She threw Draco another shirt. Draco hesitated.

"Don't tell me you don't have _trousers_ either… that must have been some wild-"

"I just prefer it if you didn't watch," Draco said quickly.

"And now we're shy," Pansy said. "You never seemed to have a problem with it when you were young… correct me if I'm wrong, but I still recall a certain incident where you galloped around my house dressed in nothing but your underwear."

"I was young. And besides," Draco said, "would _you_ strip now if I asked you to? Because if _I_ recall correctly, you were right there 'galloping' alongside with me."

"You really want me to?" Pansy touched the top buttons of her shirt, grinning.

"For heaven's sakes, no!" Draco said.

"You sure?" Pansy teased.

"For- would you just turn around?"

"What if I don't want to?" Pansy said.

"What _if_ you don't want to?"

"Well, you could always go and change out there…" Pansy waved to the Slytherin common room.

"Pansy, would you please just turn around?"

"Why bother?" Pansy said. "I can see enough as it is. Unless of course," she added. "I was right and you really _don't_ have trousers…"

"Oh for crying out loud," Draco said, turning to face the wall. He removed his robes and then took off his shirt, putting the new one on quickly.

"Oh, so shy," Pansy said. "There, that wasn't so bad now was it?"

Draco smirked. "Now it's your turn."

"What?" Now Pansy was the one to sound surprised. Draco walked to her cupboard and took out a pink shirt.

"I reckon this would look better on you. So, go on now, strip."

"_What_?" Pansy sounded horrified. "Draco, you're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Draco's face was deadly serious.

"But… no… I…"

"You were so eager to just then," Draco said.

"I was kidding!"

"As am I," Draco smiled. Pansy stared at him then threw the shirt at his face.

"Draco! That wasn't funny!"

"Why not? It seemed funny enough when you were asking me."

"Well, that's different," Pansy folded her arms.

"And wasn't it _you_ who told me not to be sexist? Equal rights and all…"

"You're insufferable."

"Proud of it."

Pansy smiled. "Really then, what have they been making you _do_ at Durmstrang?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Been working out?"

"Actually, rowing," Draco said.

"Oh," Pansy said. "I remember now… them and their goddamned boat."

"Someone crashed it into a tree once," Draco said. "One of the happiest days of my life."

"Well, it couldn't have been _all _bad…" Pansy ran her hand over Draco's arm muscles, feeling them under the fabric.

"Please Pansy," Draco said. "No incestuous behavior."

"_Incest_?" Pansy said indignantly. Draco smiled, slightly.

"You've always been a sister to me, haven't you?"

"Mm," Pansy smiled back. "Though now I wish I wasn't," she joked.

"Keep wishing," Draco said.

---

"Harry?" Ron called, walking into the room. "Harry? Harry, where are you?"

He heard the tap water running. He knocked on the toilet door. "Harry, you in there?"

"Ron?"

"You alright?" Ron asked. There was a silence then Harry opened the door, clutching at his scar, eyes watering in pain.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Ron asked, alarmed.

"I… I don't know," Harry said, his voice coming out in pained hisses. "It…" he screamed in agony.

"Omigod shit… d'you want me to get Hermione?"

"No, no it's okay…" Harry said, taking in a deep breath.

"Can I…"

Harry took his hand away and Ron reached out to touch the scar tentatively. He drew back quickly. "Ah!"

"It hurts…" Harry moaned.

"What the hell did you _do_ to it?" Ron asked, staring at his fingers, wide-eyed. The scar had burned… it had been like plunging his hand in fire.

"Nothing!"

Ron didn't know what to do. "Um… are you sure?"

"Of course I'm bloody sure!" Harry snarled.

"Do you want me to get Madam Pomfrey?"

Harry muttered something.

"What?"

"Ron… I killed him, didn't I?" Harry asked.

"Killed? Who?"

"Voldemort."

Ron froze. "You don't…"

"Why else would my scar hurt?"

"Well, there's probably some other explanation… I mean, I _saw_ You-Know-Who dead… his body blew up into ashes, I saw it!"

"I know I know… but what else could it be?"

"Well…" Ron struggled. "Maybe… maybe you got something into it?"

"My scar's bloody closed you git, it's not like something's going to worm its way in through my dead skin."

"Did you have to put it that way?" Ron tried to joke. Harry's mouth twitched, then he bowed his head down and yelled as a fresh surge of pain swept through his forehead.

---

Draco gasped and clenched his head.

"Draco?" Pansy was instantly alert. "Draco!"

"I…" Draco screamed as he saw a pair of ruby red eyes glare at him.

"Draco, what is it?" Pansy asked, scared.

"Who… are you…" Draco whispered. He found it hard to speak, hard to breathe…

"Dammit! Draco, stay here, don't go anywhere I'll be back!" Pansy said and ran for help.

"Ah. She's gone. Finally." A voice sounded in Draco's head.

"What do you-"

Draco's eyes widened and his body stiffened as he fell to the floor, choking and clawing at his throat as he desperately fought for air.

"Harry!" Ron yelled in alarm. "HARRY!"

"Ron? What's wrong?" Hermione burst into the room, just as Harry let out another scream of pain.

"Stupefy!" Hermione shouted, pointing her wand at the brunette. Harry froze momentarily, then there was a bright flash and his body slammed hard against the floor, unconscious.

"What happened, Ron?" Hermione asked, her tone brisk and 'down to business'.

"I don't know!" Ron looked panicked. "I came in, and he was clutching his scar, then he suddenly started screaming…"

Hermione looked at the brunette and she gasped, shocked. She knelt down at touched Harry's scar softly, a hiss of pain escaping her lips as the emanated heat burnt her fingers.

"What…" Ron trailed off as he too saw the scar.

It was glowing bright green.

---

Draco took sharp intakes of breath, but to no avail. It was as if every breath he took poured from his lungs. He felt like he was drowning…

_No!_

He struggled for air, fighting desperately.

"How pathetic," he heard someone sneer, and suddenly…

He sat up, gulping in sweet air thankfully.

Strange though… he didn't feel like…

"I suppose I should thank you," the voice mused.

_Who are you?_ he thought hoarsely. _Why are you in my head?_

"My dear boy, surely you can't have forgotten me already." Draco saw a tall male walk towards him and he froze in fear. The teen bent down, a smirk on his face as he roughly took hold of Draco's chin, forced him to look up into his raging ruby eyes.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," he said. "Lord Voldemort."

---

Hermione stroked back Harry's sweaty fringe gently, her fingers running lightly over the fading green scar.

"Why does everything have to happen to him?" Hermione said angrily. "He's a good person… why does everything bad always have to happen to him?"

"Maybe he did something to deserve it," Ron said quietly.

"What? What could he have done?" Hermione said. Ron was silent. "He's never done anything bad in his life," Hermione continued. "And I bet anything he did that _was_ bad probably was unintentional."

"I don't know Hermione," Ron sighed. "He doesn't even sound like the Harry I once knew."

"I know, Ron," Hermione said.

"I mean, he was fine with you, then suddenly he started…"

"I know," Hermione said, smiling sadly. "Sometimes I wonder if that was my fault."

"What?" Ron sounded incredulous. "What makes you think it was your fault?"

"I don't know," Hermione looked upset. "I don't know what went wrong… we were so happy… then he started sinking into depression… slowly, I didn't even realize at first, until it was too late."

"It's not your fault, 'Mione," Ron said. "You can't blame yourself for what another person does."

"I know, I just…" Hermione sighed. "I just wish I had been a better girlfriend… maybe, there for him more… maybe if we hadn't broken up…"

"You can't blame yourself for that," Ron said. "He was already lost to us by then."

Hermione looked away. "This morning… he told me. He said he wanted us to get together again."

"Is that really what he said?" Ron asked quietly.

"'I want everything to be just like before'… that's what he said," Hermione said.

"What did you say?"

"I told him…" Hermione's eyes watered slightly. "I told him there was something between us, pushing us apart…"

Ron looked thoughtful. "Did he say anything after that?"

"No… just asked me to tell Snape he wasn't coming to class."

Ron frowned. "Do you think maybe he meant he wanted everything to be like how it was in the first year? I mean, no offense Hermione, but it doesn't sound like he was asking to be your boyfriend again."

"I don't know…" Hermione sighed. "I wish I knew more. He's our friend and yet he knows much more about us than we do about him."

"People change."

"Not that mu…" Hermione trailed off as Harry moved beneath her hand, moaning.

"Harry? Feeling better?" Ron asked.

"Not really," Harry said, holding his head.

"Your… scar… still hurting?" the redhead asked.

"No, I just feel… tired."

"That's alright then… you just stay here and sleep," Hermione said concernedly.

"Don't I have to get to Divination?" Harry said.

"Divination!" Hermione snorted. "Well even better, you won't be missing that much."

"We've got to go now Hermione," Ron said, heading to the door. "Don't worry Harry," he added. "I'll tell you what horrible way you're going to die today."

Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek then she left with Ron.

_Don't worry Harry. I'll tell you what horrible way you're going to die today._

For some reason, today, Harry didn't find that very funny.

---

_What… how…_ Draco thought.

"You disappoint me," Voldemort shook his head. "I thought you were smart."

_How…_

"I transferred a part of myself to you. When I transformed you." A sneer marred Tom's handsome features.

"Draco, I couldn't find any… are you alright?" Pansy asked, noticing Draco's blank stare at the doorway. Voldemort scowled then disappeared as Pansy ran to the blonde.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm… fine," Draco said shakily.

"Why were you staring at the door?"

"Pansy… did… did you see anyone?"

"I didn't get anyone, no…" Pansy said, her voice still worried as she helped lift the blonde up.

"No… he was right here, in the room… he talked to me…"

"Who?"

"_Him_," Draco said, and Pansy knew immediately by the tone who Draco was talking about.

"But… he's dead," Pansy said.

"He's here," Draco shuddered. "He's in…"

He didn't finish his sentence. Voldemort stood in front of him and smiled evilly, then touched his palm to Draco's chest.

He took over his body.

"Draco?" Pansy noticed the sudden silence. "Draco, are you…"

"I'm fine," Draco said. Pansy dropped him immediately, startled. That wasn't Draco… not his voice. Draco would never speak in such a cold tone, not to her…

"I'm fine," he repeated, then walked out.

"Draco… where are you going?" Pansy asked, suddenly fearful. The blonde whirled around, and Pansy was alarmed at the amount of burning hatred blazing in those icy-blue eyes.

"It is none of your concern," he said, his voice frigid as he walked away. Pansy stared after him then ran out.

"Draco?" Pansy whispered, turning a corner nervously. "Draco, are you alright?"

_What kind of stupid question is that?_ Pansy thought. Of course he wasn't; how could he be? First he started screaming and holding his head, then he started seeing things, then he started to act… possessed…

Pansy didn't doubt Draco's word. When he said, "he's in…" she knew. And she didn't doubt him, she never did. Draco wouldn't joke about something like that.

The girl wondered, _what hold did he have over Draco?_

_He got sick_, Pansy suddenly realized. _The last time… the last time _he_ was here, Draco got sick._

She was furious. Draco may respect Lucius, but she sure as hell didn't. As far as she knew, as soon as that asshole had come into her friend's life he had gone nowhere but down. 

She knew, as soon as she saw him. She knew he was going to be nothing but hell for Draco, and she realized that Draco knew it too. She could tell from the way her friend's face went blank when talked to, the polite manner in which he responded to Lucius…

_He may respect him. But he'll never love him._

"Parkinson," a voice hissed and she whirled around, her heart leaping to her throat in fear. She caught a glimpse of a pair of gleaming blue eyes before she was frozen in a silent scream.

_Pansy…_

"Shit," the man swore.

_Why did you do that to her?_ Draco was livid.

"She was unfaithful," Voldemort replied. "I don't take kindly to unfaithful people."

_She didn't do anything to you._

"So gallant now," Voldemort sneered. "Don't worry, I didn't do anything to the little whore. I just stunned her."

_Bastard, _Draco swore.

Voldemort folded his arms. "You know, the worst time for a child is when he finally manages to tell the difference between right and wrong," he said. "That's when everything gets turned around. Everything they want to do they can't, and everything to don't they can."

_Easier for you to manipulate?_ Draco spat.

"Manipulate?" Voldemort looked surprised. "My dear boy, I don't manipulate."

He leaned in close to Draco's face, closing his eyes and brushing his lips against a stunned Draco's mouth.

"I coax," he said. "And I encourage."

This time Draco really did want to spit. It was then that he suddenly realized.

_Get the hell out of my body!_

He could see Tom walking ahead… but every motion he did, every movement, Draco's body mimicked. He had figured a few minutes ago that Pansy couldn't see Voldemort, meaning that Voldemort was probably in his head, and…

_Oh god_, he thought. He felt sick.

"So you've finally figured it out!" Voldemort crowed happily. "Did that feel good? Casting that spell over her… watching her limbs stiffen, a living doll…"

_You sicken me_, Draco thought, and starting fighting for control.

"I sicken you?" Voldemort sounded amused. "Come now, what do you call what you did earlier then?"

_What?_

"You know. This," he said, then whirled around and kissed Draco hard on the mouth.

And, of course, Draco's body followed.

_What the hell are you doing?_ Draco yelled.

"Only what you seemed to be enjoying so much with Potter," Voldemort said, pulling back and licking his lips. "Though really, I thought you'd have better taste than _him_."

_Fuck off_, Draco thought furiously. He was so angry… how dare that… that _bastard_ take advantage of him like this? He hated it!

The old panic started rising in him again. He hated this feeling… this feeling of uselessness. He hated not having control. He was _always_ in control!

Except… when he was in werewolf state. He hated it so much… he would fight and fight until pure mental exhaustion, and the werewolf would still be victorious…

He always did something bad when he wasn't in control.

"Ah, my little serpent," Voldemort touched his face, Draco's body mimicking and touching his. Draco felt sick, even though he knew Voldemort was only in his mind and he was really only touching air. "Always the leader."

Draco remained silent. "Oh, don't be like that," Voldemort said. "Here, let me give you a kiss to make you feel better."

_Why the hell are you doing this to me?_ Draco thought, shuddering in disgust as the man's cool tongue licked lightly over his skin.

"Who thought you would grow so nicely?" Voldemort murmured, ignoring Draco's question as he bit at the blonde's collarbone. Draco suddenly realized; he wasn't licking back! He could-

No. He couldn't.

"You think I'm stupid, serpent?" Voldemort laughed as Draco struggled to move, his body standing blankly, an overlarge doll. He licked the area under Draco's ear.

"You like that, don't you, serpent?" he whispered, hissing in Parseltongue.

_Fuck. Off._ Draco replied, icy cold. Voldemort froze and snarled in anger.

"Alright. Now, you asked for it."

He didn't hesitate. Swiftly, deftly, he started unbuttoning Draco's shirt.

_Wait, what the hell are you-_ Draco started, panicked as he felt the fabric slide down off his shoulders.

"Shut up," Voldemort commanded as he started down Draco's chest, ravishing the young teen's body in pure ecstasy.

---

It was a few hours after lunch when Ron and Hermione started to return to the Gryffindor dormitories.

"Remind me never to eat anything Hagrid makes again. Ever," Ron said.

"You could have just said no," Hermione laughed.

"That wouldn't have been nice… he was so intent on us eating those damned things."

"It's the thought that counts."

Ron groaned. "I think I'm going to have indigestion."

Hermione turned the corner then spotted something.

"Ron, is that…"

"Parkinson?" Ron yelped. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Hermione went up to her. "Ron, look, she's been stunned."

"Stunned?" Ron looked surprised. "Who would've done that to her?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. She took out her wand and said the counter-spell. Pansy unfroze and stumbled a little, recovering quickly.

"Are you-" Hermione started.

"Draco!" Pansy shrieked to a very startled Hermione. "Where is he? Draco!"

"Wait, wait, calm down, _what's_ with Malfoy?" Ron asked.

"Shit!" Pansy swore. "Where _is_ he?"

"Pansy, calm down!" Hermione said.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" the girl shrieked.

"What is it, what's wrong?" Ron said. The girl took a deep breath, clearly very agitated and annoyed at the disruption.

"Draco… he… I think he's been possessed."

"Possessed?" Hermione said. "That's impossible, ghosts can't-"

"Not by a ghost," Pansy said. "It's him."

The way she said 'him' was enough.

"But… You-Know-Who's _dead_!" Ron stammered.

"I saw him," Pansy said, her voice deadly serious. "In Draco. He took over his body."

"But…" Hermione's eyes widened. "Harry!"

She turned and started to run at full speed to the Gryffindor towers, followed closely by Ron and Pansy.

---

"Mmm… enjoying that, serpent?" Tom whispered, licking the delicate skin around Draco's bellybutton.

_Get the fuck away from me!_ Draco screamed in fury and despair.

"You seem to enjoy it so much when Potter does it…" the man started moving lower.

_You fucking disgusting bastard!_

That got him.

"You dare to call me 'disgusting'?" he hissed, his fury shooting through the blonde like millions of shard of shattered glass. Draco suddenly felt his body moving again, but not from his control.

_Where…_ he trailed off as he realized he was heading for the Gryffindor towers. 

"Wormwood," his mouth said.

"Hrm? Oh, alright," the Fat Lady said sleepily, awoken from a long nap. Voldemort pushed the door open and walked in, Draco's body following obediently behind. He went to Harry's room, then stopped and looked at the teen, sleeping in the bed.

His mouth twisted into a smirk as he saw the crystal rose, lying on the bedside table.

_What are you…_ Draco felt a feeling of dread.

Draco's hand lifted, holding the wand.

"Imperio," he said.

_That's not going to work, Harry can withstand the Imperio curse…_

"While he's asleep?" Voldemort smirked, and seeing the instant blank look on Harry's peaceful face Draco realized what Voldemort said was true. Draco's body moved to Harry's side.

"Here, love," he said, handing the Gryffindor the rose. "Hold this."

It suddenly hit Draco what Voldemort was going to do. _No, no, please!_

"Now…" his mouth hissed softly. "Break it."

Harry raised his hand high, then brought it crashing down to the floor, smashing the crystal to tiny pieces.

The blackness spilled out and seeped into Draco.

He screamed. 

A/N: I know this chapter's pretty unclear. Summary. Basically, Voldemort took control of Draco's body. However, Draco can see what Voldemort's doing… like he's standing in front of him, and whatever he does Draco's body mimics. This is all in Draco's mind; his body _is_ doing what Voldemort does, but he's the only one who can see him.

Oh, and the werewolf's there as well. ^^


	11. Burning

_He runs, breathless… it is pitch dark, his footsteps pattering, his breath swallowed by the ebony blackness, surrounding him, pressing him in… chocolate brown eyes, soft, sweet, they're everywhere, everywhere he goes, they're…_

"Why didn't you tell me Harry?" Dennis' voice was soft.

"I'm sorry…"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dennis' dark coffee brown eyes were accusing, moist with tears.

"I'm… I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"He was my _brother_!" Dennis screamed, and now the darkness was gone, and now Harry could see.

What he saw made him want to retch.

The body of Dennis Creevey lay on the floor, his skin a ghastly shade of blue, save for his back, neck and face, which were caked in blood the color of fallen dead leaves. His eyes stared out of his face, hauntingly sad even in death. The most horrifying however was his neck, twisted at a grotesque angle from his body, as if merely hanging together by an artery and a vein.

Dennis Creevey had leapt off the Astronomy Tower, only a month after the murder of his older brother.

This dream was nothing new to the Gryffindor. It had after all been haunting him for years, plaguing on his conscience. He had felt partially responsible for Dennis' death, like he could have done something to avert it.

"I know, I was just-"

"Just what?" Dennis shouted. "Protecting him! Protecting that bastard, Malfoy!"

"I…" Harry couldn't finish.

"He killed my brother," Dennis' voice was cold, hoarse. "And you didn't tell me."

"What good would it have done _anyway_?" Harry cried out, knowing the answer perfectly well, could probably recite it off by heart. "Colin was dead, there was nothing that could've-"

"I would have been happy, knowing my brother's killer was in Azkaban," Dennis said quietly, his blood-crusted lips the only part of him moving, his body lying eerily still on the floor. "You betrayed me, Harry."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, and he meant it with all his heart, wishing he could do something, _anything_…

"You betrayed me. For him."

Harry couldn't speak. The guilt weighed heavy on his heart. _Oh god, I could have saved him…_

"Did you even really love him?" Dennis asked. "Was it worth it? The two Creevey boys, for him? _God_ Harry, you were our _world_. Colin would have _died_ for you." Dennis laughter came short and harsh out of his mouth. "Well, he died alright. The least _you_ could have done was avenge him.

"Why did you have to kill yourself?" Harry whispered.

"Colin was like my other half," Dennis' voice was flat, emotionless. "When he died, so did I."

"You didn't have to… Dennis, I could have…"

"Helped me?" Dennis asked bitterly. "My soul was _dead_, it was fucking _dead_, and all because of _HIM_!"

"I'm so…" a tear welled in Harry's eye. "I'm so sorry Dennis, I'm so sorry, I screwed up, I'm so, so sorry…"

Dennis' eyes were vacant. "Colin… Colin taught me everything… looked after me when mom died… when dad was in the hospital…" he barked out a short laugh. "He killed himself. Bastard did it on purpose… set himself on fire… incendio, that's what did it… have you ever seen a burning man, Harry?" Dennis sounded distant, like he was in another dimension. "The hair's what goes first… then the skin start to char and melt… along with the eyes… white goop, drooling down the person's face…"

"Dennis, stop," Harry said, sickened.

"The bastard," Dennis repeated, softly. "I was only eleven… Colin was only thirteen."

"Please, Dennis…"

"He did it, Colin… he did everything. He got the money, I don't know how… and he did it with a smile. Never complained once about how hard it was… just kept telling me, 'Dennis, it's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay'…" Dennis turned his dead eyes to meet with Harry's. "He worshipped the ground on which you stood, Harry. You know why? Because you… it was always you, you were the one who made things better, you were the one who could perform miracles no one else could… he believed you could have helped us."

Harry couldn't take it anymore. He turned from the corpse and ran.

Running… the voice played in his head. _You can't get away Harry; it's all around you, surrounding you, caging you in…_

"He killed him." Harry could see Dennis' eyes, sad, anguished, angry, betrayed. "And you… you killed me."

---

Harry screamed, the same time Draco did. The blonde fell to the floor, gasping in agony as the darkness seeped in through his skin, tiny needles piercing, pushing.

"Oh, poor baby," Voldemort cooed, walking over to Harry, giving control of the blonde's body momentarily back to its rightful owner.

"You… bastard… get… away…" Draco's eyes widened, and he covered his mouth, biting hard into the soft flesh oh his palm to stifle his scream. Voldemort looked at him, amused, then stroked back Harry's fringe, running his thumb over the lightning bolt scar, his mouth twitching into a smirk as the boy moaned and turned over, sweating in his tortured nightmare.

"Oh, don't complain," he said to Draco as a muffled yell emanated from the boy. "It was you who brought this on yourself you know… I must remember to thank you, by the way. Licking Potter's scar like you did… it was all I needed, to drain his energy for myself.

He turned his attention back to Harry. "Gryffindor's hero…" he mused, brushing a finger lightly past Harry's eye, "reduced to tears by a simple nightmare."

Beads of sweat burst onto Draco's forehead as he squeezed his eyes tight shut, fighting back the pain. He wasn't going to scream, no way. He wasn't going to give the asshole the satisfaction. He felt his spine cracking and he bit down harder as jolts of pain seared down from his brain to his tailbone. He felt his hair shoot out at the fringe, shortening at the back… then it stopped.

"Drama queen," Voldemort sneered. Draco got up, his legs shaky as he walked to the mirror. What he saw almost gave him a heart attack.

A half-naked boy, trousers tight around his slender hips. But that wasn't what got him.

It was his face. Instead of pale blonde, his hair had returned back to its original mouse-brown. His fringe was long, flopping sensually, casually down his face, over his stunned ice-blue eyes to his chin, curling at the ends. The rest of his hair was in spikes, curving gently down his skull to end at his nape. His eyes were wide, its look of original boyish innocence restored.

He looked just like…

"Oh god," he back away in horror.

"Hm. Starting resemblance," Voldemort mused. "Well, as they say, like father like son… a muggle phrase, I believe it was."

"Bastard," Draco whispered.

"I do wish you would stop calling me that," Voldemort said, irritated. "After all, there was no one to blame for his death but yourself. Tell me… did he taste nice?"

"Oh," he laughed. "That reminds me. There's a friend of yours who's been just _dying_ to meet you."

"Wh-" Draco didn't get to finish. Voldemort snapped his fingers, and the startled boy disappeared.

Or at least, he thought he had disappeared.

"Where am I?" he wondered. He was in a plain room, large and white. He was surrounded by four screens, and as he looked, he realized they were showing what he was doing, what his body was doing. It was as if staring out through his own eyes, except projected onto a screen. He could see his body moving, getting up off the floor… meaning Voldemort was back in control.

_Dammit__!_ he thought furiously. That rose… he had given it to Harry for a special reason. He had asked the boy to keep it well and never let it break, and he knew Harry would treat it like gold.

How ironic that he would be the one to do it himself.

_Harry…_ his heart ached. He felt angry, so angry… how dare Voldemort _do_ this to him? How dare he take over his body, _his_ body, in this manner?

_Oh god, Harry_. Suddenly it hit him like a speeding truck. He had only been caring about himself, _his_ feelings… while Voldemort stood in Harry's bedroom, in possession of his body.

And Harry was _asleep_.

_Oh, don't worry, Dragon_, he heard Voldemort's amused voice. _Me and Potter… we're gonna have some _fun _first._

"Leave him alone!" Draco shouted.

_How _rude_… didn't Lucius ever teach you to share?_ Voldemort tsked, his voice mocking. Then all was silent again. Voldemort had cut off contact.

"Fuck!" Draco swore. He suddenly heard a familiar snarl, and he whirled around.

_Hello, prey,_ the werewolf said, and pounced.

---

"Play nice now," Voldemort murmured, smirking as he felt the two beings inside him collide. Mm. It felt good to have a body… to actually have a _body_…

A scowl played on Draco's face as Voldemort remembered with pure fury what had happened at Durmstrang. He had bee so close, _so_ close to power… and yet someone had known, had cast a spell that had left him weak and had forced him to beat a hasty retreat, returning Draco and his body back to Hogwarts while he recovered inside. He had been in control then, just as he was in control now, just as he had been in control when he had killed that boy…

He curled his lips back into a smirk. Ah, yes. Colin Creevey, he believed it was. The boy had caught him using the Imperius curse on a student, and had been forced to kill him, doing a hasty Memory Charm on the student who had been recovering groggily. Draco was devastated, if he could remember correctly. The Slytherin had always been a difficult host; Voldemort had had to use a lot of powerful Memory Charms on him the past few days. But at the time… Voldemort had simply found it easier to return Draco's body to its owner.

And what had the brat done in return? Run straight to Golden Boy Potter and told him everything. It had taken all Voldemort had to regain control and make Draco force Harry to swear not to tell anyone. He had put on his best expression of pure distress, and had pleaded with the Gryffindor for him not to tell anyone, 'else Draco be put in Azkaban.

The idiot had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker.

But of course, the damage had been done. Voldemort had been forced to switch Draco to Durmstrang, just to be safe.

Incidentally, the switch had been the day after the death of Colin's brother. What was his name again… Voldemort had caused the death of so many it was a miracle he even remembered _one_. Ah, Dennis, that was it. Stupid fool had hurled himself off the Astronomy Tower.

Ah, but it had been so worthwhile, to see the infuriated anguish in Potter's shimmering emerald orbs as he beat Draco, hit him, screaming at him. Tearful sobs of "How can you? I love you, you bastard, is that what you want to here? I need you… don't leave me, I _need_ you… how can you leave me?" turned to loud screams of pure, unbridled anger… "It's all your fault! You bastard, you killed him, you killed them both, you cold, unfeeling bastard… why don't you _say_ something?"

Harry had been so desperate, so angry, just wanted Draco to say something, anything, even just a simple 'sorry' would have sufficed to quench his anger… but Draco didn't say anything. Because Voldemort didn't.

The anger… Voldemort was amazed at it. So pure, so powerful, so much raw emotion… he had never felt anything of the like.

And apparently, neither had Draco.

For that, Voldemort had to thank Harry. Every punch, every hit, every accusation… they slapped at the blonde like shard of ice, poisoned glass seeping into his skin.

Killing him.

He had cried. Inside, he had cried, "Harry, I'm sorry, stop, stop it, _please_, god, I'm so sorry." But on the outside he stood, blank, a human sized doll.

Voldemort wasn't giving him control.

It had been easy to control Draco from then onward. It had been as if his mental self had simple shut down. As if… as if it were dead. It had only been in Durmstrang… damn that girl, damn her, for turning Draco back into a child… no, no, it hadn't been just her… her, and that boy, and the headmaster… they had all cast their spells at once, and the combination had been what reverted Draco to childhood.

Somehow, it had also made him forget. Forget everything, except for his eight-year-old self and what was happening then.

And then there was the werewolf. Voldemort hadn't been exactly sure why Harry's kiss had brought Draco's seventeen-year-old self back, but he was thankful it did. He needed that body.

However, he hadn't counted on Draco's mind returning to normal. In the end, he was using such powerful Memory Charms he was afraid he would permanently damage the boy. And of course, he had to be very careful… in case Draco could sense something wrong.

The last step however had been thanks to Draco himself. That episode, earlier that day, when he had licked Harry's scar… Voldemort had been able to use that to suck the energy out of the Gryffindor, enough so that he was strong enough to once again try to fight Draco for control of his body. It had been easy this time. Voldemort had forgotten what an extremely powerful wizard Harry was.

Next to him, the Gryffindor stirred, a soft moan escaping his lips. Voldemort glanced at him and smirked. Why not? He _had_ told Draco he was going to 'have fun', after all.

And 'fun' he was going to have.

Getting smoothly onto the bed, he straddled Harry's waist between his knees. Harry blinked awake, startled at the sudden weight on him.

"Hey, gorgeous," Voldemort purred.

---

There had been a very good reason why Draco had handed the rose over to Harry.

It was because he knew Harry would never break it. No matter what he said.

And now… it was broken.

_I've been waiting for this a long time_, the werewolf said, landing neatly on its paws as Draco dodged away. _Finally… a real fight._

Draco had known of the power inside the rose. Voldemort had put it there, sucked it out of the boy and trapped it in its crystal casing like a bug in amber.

It had been his 'gift'. His miracle cure, the only cure for lycanthropy.

Teen and wolf circled, each eyeing the other warily.

_You have grown,_ the wolf noted.

"It's been a long time since we met like this, isn't it?" Draco agreed.

_You stripped me of my powers! _the wolf snarled. _You trapped me in that rose!_

"But now, you're free," Draco said, his voice calm.

_And at the full moon, I shall return to the hunt._ The wolf's silver eyes were filled with a sort of longing, feral and wild.

Draco _had_ met the werewolf like this before. Once, before, when Voldemort had stripped him of his lycanthropy… he had seen the wolf howl in pain and fury as its powers seeped out from it into the flower's petals, the crystal casing quickly forming to cover it.

_I will take your body,_ the wolf said. _In daylight, I shall have your body… and by the moon, I shall have mine._

"Charming," Draco said, sounding uninterested though inside his heart was pounding fast. The wolf snarled, and leapt again.

---

"Wh-"

"Mmm…" Voldemort moved down so he sat on the Gryffindor's chest. Harry blinked and stared. Who the hell…

Those eyes…

"_Draco_?" he voice came out as a rather undignified squawk.

"New look. You like?" Voldemort smirked seductively, like a supermodel showing off her body to a gang of drooling teenage boys.

"You… what ha… what are you _doing_?"

"Hm?" Voldemort paused, fingering the top button of Harry's shirt playfully. "Well, _I'm_ dressed… sorta," he mouth quirked up at the corners, "for the occasion. Shouldn't _you_ be?"

"Occasion?" Harry asked warily, his eyes trailing involuntarily to Draco's bare chest. Damn, did he have a hot body… the Gryffindor could feel the heat rise to his cheeks.

"Well… you know," Voldemort purred, stroking the underside of Harry's chin playfully, much in the same way that one would do to a kitten. "Come on Potter, let's play."

"_Play_?" Harry was incredulous. "Draco, what's gotten _into _you? First I wake up, then I find you… _sitting _on me, half naked and looking-"

"Looking?" Voldemort pouted. "You don't like my new look?"

"Dammit Malfoy, I don't even know how you _got_ this way, and now it's like you don't _care_, just sitting on me and…" Harry tailed off.

"Offering you sex?" Voldemort supplied innocently.

Harry turned an odd shade of crimson. "What is going _on_ here, Malfoy?" he demanded. Voldemort suddenly froze. He thought he heard…

Whirling around, he pulled Draco's wand out of his pocket and aimed it at the door. "Desountos," he said, and the door glowed red before fading back to its normal color.

"What did you do?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Minor locking spell," Voldemort shrugged.

"Why?"

_Gods_ this boy was nosy. "Because," he said, pocketing the wand then leaning in the Harry again, "you wouldn't want your friends to barge in and ruin all the fun, would you?"

"What…" Harry's face turned crimson again. "We don't _have_ to-"

"Yes we do." Voldemort engulfed Harry's mouth with his, swallowing the words that were about to tumble off the Gryffindor's tongue. "Because you love me… _ever_ so much… isn't that right?" he hissed his final word in Parseltongue, soft and venomous. "Potter."

---

Hermione tried the handle. "It's locked."

"Harry!" Ron shouted, banging on the door.

"He can't hear you." Pansy's voice was oddly quiet as she touched the door. "Desountos. Dark Magic."

"Isn't Desountos the one where sound can't penetrate through the object?" Hermione asked.

"And neither can anything else," Pansy said grimly. "Not even ghosts."

Ron rattled the doorknob hard, slamming his body against the wooden door.

"Don't even bother," Pansy said. "Desountos also is a powerful locking spell. You'll never get in by brute force. That's why it's classified as Dark Magic; Death Eaters used to use it so many times to kill their victims that it was no longer considered 'just a spell'."

"So then what do you suggest we _do_?" Ron asked, exasperated.

"How do you know all this?" Hermione asked strangely. Pansy looked at her, her brown eyes cold.

"Trust me, Granger. You don't want to know."

"Can we have this conversation _later_?" Ron asked, worry etched on his face. "Is there a spell we can use to beat this thing, or not?"

Hermione drew out her wand, but Pansy put a hand on it, forcing it down. "That's not going to work," she said.

"We have to try," Hermione said determinedly. Pansy released her wand and turned away as Hermione pointed and said, "Alohomora."

As Pansy had anticipated, nothing had happened.

"What now?" Ron asked. "Do you know any other 'opening' spells?"

Hermione didn't reply as she watched Pansy slowly approach the door, silently placing her palms flat on the warm wood and closing her eyes.

Draco.

---

Draco gasped in pain as he just barely dodged, the wolf's claws tearing cruelly into his skin.

Draco.

He halted, just for a second. "Pansy?"

Draco, can you hear me?

"Pansy!" he shouted, then grunted as he spun, delivering a jaw-breaking kick to the wolf's snout, kicking one sharp tooth out and causing it to bleed.

Draco. The voice sounded relieved. Draco, are you alright?

"A bloody werewolf's trying to fucking kill me, do you think I'm alright?" he snapped.

Me, Weasley and Granger are outside the door… we're trying to get in to help, but I think someone Desountos-ed the door… do you know how to break it?

Draco whirled and spun away from the werewolf. He glanced quickly up at the screens and almost died of heart attack on the spot. He was… snogging Harry… his fingers were stripping off the Gryffindor's shirt…

"Harry, no…" he moaned. He felt as if his heart was breaking… couldn't he tell it wasn't him? It was Voldemort, dammit, not him, couldn't Harry see that…

Draco?

Snapping out of it, Draco whirled around, just to see the wolf flying straight at him, leaving no time for him to run. He turned quickly so his back face the beast, and he was slammed down onto the floor, screaming in agony as he back was ravaged, claws ripping wildly into the unprotected flesh.

Draco!

"Try… Apparating!" Draco gasped before jerking his body away from the wolf.

---

"What are you doing?" Ron asked. Pansy ignored him, then frowned.

"Draco's in trouble. I think he said… he was fighting a werewolf."

"What?" Ron looked surprised. "It's not even night yet… isn't he a werewolf himself?"

Pansy was silent, thinking. "What was that, anyway?" Ron asked. "Why did you touch the door?"

"Weasel, for once in your life, don't be a pain and just _shut up_," Pansy snapped. She turned immediately to Hermione, not allowing Ro the time to respond. "Granger… you know how to Apparate, don't you?"

"Yes, but-"

"Good. We're going in."

"Wait, but… Apparating's against the…"

"Oh, _screw_ the rules!" Pansy said. "If you're not coming, I'll just go myself."

Hermione hesitated. "What about Ron?" she said, looking at the redhead who at the moment was looking incredibly hurt.

"Go call Dumbledore," Pansy said, her tone authoritative, commanding. "Tell him Potter's door has been cursed shut."

"Wait," Hermione said. "I want to know too… why did you touch the door? How did you know about Malfoy?"

Pansy looked irritated, but gave in. "I guessed Draco had been turned back into his child self… what is, what his child self would look like if he were seventeen… but that doesn't matter. I suspected that Draco's real father-" she said this with a disgusted scowl, "was psychic… that is, that he had some mild ESP skills… I only guessed that it would have been genetically inherited."

Ron and Hermione looked utterly lost.

"Malfoy's real father?" Hermione asked.

"Malfoy's _psychic_?" Ron asked.

"No, just a little, and we have a strong bond and… oh dammit, I don't have time for this. Apparate!" Pansy shouted, and she disappeared.

"Hermione?" Ron said.

"Yes, Ron?"

"I…" he looked upset, "I can't Apparate…"

"I know." Hermione's voice was soft, her expression slightly sad.

Ron came up to her and, hesitantly, kissed her on the lips. "Take care," he said, and as they pulled away Hermione could see the look of pure anxiety and worry in his emerald orbs. She suddenly realized how difficult it had to be for him… the redhead had always been there by Harry's side. And now, he was just being tossed away…

"Boy, makes me wish I paid more attention in class," Ron joked weakly. Hermione pulled him into a quick hug.

"I love you," she said, then Apparated in.

---

"Mm," Voldemort murmured, his mouth trailing down Harry's body, tongue touching skin lightly. "Yum."

It was all Harry could do to stop the moan threatening to escape his lips. Most beautiful and mysterious boy he had ever met in his life sitting on top of him, both clad only in trousers –Harry glanced at his shirt, lying in a mess on the floor- bodies impossibly close…

Harry subconsciously touched his scar. It was… tingling. Not to mention something else was… he felt heat rush to his cheeks.

"Kiss me," Voldemort said, and before Harry could respond, he grabbed the Gryffindor's head and pulled Harry to him, their mouths meeting roughly, the Slytherin's lips parted and his tongue seeking entrance. He licked at Harry's lip and Harry opened obediently, Voldemort's tongue ravishing every inch of the raven-haired boy's mouth. His hands were everywhere, touching, feeling…

Harry went a sudden bright crimson red as he pushed the other male back with as much force as he could.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" he said, moving back.

"I thought you _liked_ doing this," Voldemort said, pouting.

"You…" Harry suddenly had a very visual thought and turned even redder.

"See? You _do_ like it, don't you?" Voldemort smirked at Harry's flushed face. "You pervert, Potter."

"Draco!" cried a female voice.

With lightning-quick reflexes Harry kicked the other teen in the stomach, causing him to topple onto the floor just as there was a small flash and Pansy appeared in the room.

"_Pansy_?"

"Alright you bastard, you leave Draco alone _now_ or-"

"What are you _doing_?" Harry asked in mild alarm as the girl pointed her wand at the Slytherin on the floor, a look of pure venom on her face.

"Expelliarmus!" Voldemort was pleased with the speed of his new body as he whipped out Draco's wand and cast the spell at the girl. A wind-like force whacked the wand out of Pansy's hand and she whirled around to get it back.

There was another flash and a very startled Hermione appeared in. "Harry!" she exclaimed. Then, "Why are you half naked?"

"What the hell is going _on_ here, Hermione?" Harry asked, frustrated.

"Stupid boy." Voldemort was up now, an ugly sneer marring Draco's handsome features. "Shall I show you?"

"Harry… that's You-Know-Who!" Hermione cried.

"Crucio!"

Pansy picked up her wand and flicked it Harry, ending it before it even began, her eyes cold as she turned to face Voldemort. "You. _Bastard_." Her voice was calm and clear.

"There's that word again." Voldemort's voice was icy. Pansy raised her wand.

"You wouldn't hurt me," Voldemort scoffed. "You hurt me, and it's bye bye Malfoy."

"Try me," Pansy said.

"Pansy, no!" Hermione cried.

A smirk tugged at Pansy's mouth as she shouted, "Rictusempra!," dodging left away from Voldemort's "Incendio!"

Voldemort spun as if caught in a mini whirlwind and smashed into the wall. Pansy dropped to the floor with a pained hiss.

"Pansy!" Hermione raced to the girl's side, covering her mouth in horror. A huge chunk of the Slytherin's arm was gone, showing just blackened meat and charred bone. Blood was starting to dribble out, a sickly reddish brown. The smell of burnt flesh invaded Hermione's nostrils and she felt about to retch. Pansy's eyes were wide, pained, tears starting to spill, her breath coming in short and ragged as she tried to resist the all too human urge to just sit there and scream in agony.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted. The raven-haired teen jumped off the bed, reaching into his pocket…

_My wand!_ He suddenly realized in horror that he no longer had a wand, it being broken and splintered. He raced for the door, but found it wouldn't open.

"Desountos," Voldemort said, getting up. He flicked his wand as Hermione, and the girl flew back with the force of a hurricane into Harry's cupboard, her head connecting with a cruel 'crack' against the wood. She slumped down, unconscious. At the same time, Pansy fell down, her face lying flat down on the floor, the pain evidently too much for her to handle.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled, panicked.

"And now, boy," Draco's mouth was wide in an evil, taunting grin, "it's just you… and me."

---

A/N: Hope you liked the dream sequence! I'm in the midst of writing the 13th chapter now and am trying to bring things to a close, so anyone who doesn't understand the story (I know there's quite a few of you out there ;) or has any questions about it, ask them now and I'll write them into the chapter. Cheers!


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